


The Girl From Hell

by BleedingInk



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Alternate Universe - Human, BDSM, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, F/M, Food Play, Friends With Benefits, Light Bondage, M/M, Megstiel - Freeform, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Phone Sex, Role Playing, Safewords, Second-Hand Embarrassment, Spanking, dom!Meg, girl on top, sub!cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-08
Updated: 2014-07-16
Packaged: 2018-02-08 01:22:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 36
Words: 99,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1921338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BleedingInk/pseuds/BleedingInk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel is a recently divorced man who goes to a bar to drink his misery away. Somehow, he ends up hooking up with Meg, the headstrong waitress, and she will teach him a thing or two about love and new beginnings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Please note that this work has been previously posted in fanfiction.net about a year ago by a user with the name of AgathaKillian. Just so we're clear: I am her, she is me, we are one and the same. I'm reposting it here because I'm thinking about erasing my FFN account and I wanted to have all my eggs in the same basket. I'll probably be uploading three or four chapters everyday and updating the tags as I go.

“Another one,” said Castiel, tapping the table with his glass. The waitress hesitated, with the bottle in her hand.

“You sure about that, honey?” she asked him. “You don’t seem to be holding on your liquor all that well.”

Castiel protested. True, he was not much of a drinker. He’d only had three shots of whiskey, and yes, he had gone from tipsy to dizzy rather fast. But he had resolved to get drunk tonight, and it was none of the waitress business if he succeeded.

So he decided to be all bossy and manly with her. Or at least he tried.

“Just… pour me another one” he said, but the voice he intended to be firm and commanding came out as a weak whimper. The waitress did not seem impressed.

“Hon, you’re about to puke,” she warned him.

“So?” he said, still trying to sound assertive, and still failing spectacularly.

“So… it’s Christmas Eve!” she reminded him. “I want to go home early, not get stuck here cleaning.”

Castiel buried his hands in his dark, chaotic hair. Yes, Christmas Eve. That was exactly the reason he wanted to get drunk in the first place.

But the girl was right. He had no right to make her stay working late. She probably had friends and family she wanted to see.

“I’m sorry” he said, recoiling. “I just… I think I’ll go home.”

He tried taking his wallet out and standing up… only he tried it at the same time, and he ended up somehow kicking his chair and waving his arms pathetically. He probably would have fallen on his face, if the waitress hadn’t had so much experience dealing with lonely, sad drunk people.

“Watch out!” she told him, putting a hand on his chest so he could recover his balance. “Just sit,” she ordered him, and Castiel did, obedient. The waitress put a hand on her hip, and shook her head. The she glanced at the clock on the wall opposite to them. “My turn will be over in five minutes” she informed him. “If you can wait that long without passing out, I’ll walk you to the door and get you a taxi.”

“I can drive” Castiel objected, even though they both knew that was not the case.

“And kill yourself? I don’t think so, Clarence” she said.

Castiel meant to ask just who the heck Clarence was, but he got distracted when she bent over the table and stretched her hand to him.

“Give them to me.”

Reluctantly, Castiel reached for the pocket of his brown trench coat and handed her his car keys. He didn’t know why. Maybe it was the authority on her voice, maybe he was drunker that he thought. Or maybe catching an involuntary glimpse of her cleavage had destroyed whatever little control over his own actions he had left. It was easier to just do as she said.

“Wait here,” she was telling him now, so he did.

He waited for what seemed like hours, watching indifferently the other clients in the bar. Not that there were many to watch at. The place was almost empty at that hour, with that weather and on that night. There was a group of merry drinkers that had started caroling in strident and tuneless voices, shooing away most of the clients who weren’t drunk enough to be bothered to stand up. The bartender didn’t seem to mind, moving his shoulder and hips to the rhythm (or lack of) of the carolers, while drying a glass. Castiel suspected he was a little drunk too.

“Hey, Meg!” he screamed when the waitress Castiel was waiting for reappeared, wearing a thick jacket. “What would you think if we get a karaoke machine?”

“Oh, you can do that, Winchester” answered Meg, hanging her purse on her shoulder. “But then you would never see my beautiful face again.”

“Party-popper!” the bartender screamed as she walked away towards Castiel’s table.

“Okay, Clarence, let’s clear out,” she told him, offering him her arm for support.

“Thank you,” said Castiel, standing up. “But I’m fine, really…”

And then he stumbled with his own feet. The waitress – Meg, he reminded himself, her name was Meg – caught him again, managed to keep him standing.

“Of course you are,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Come on.”

Meg led him out of the Monter’s Den, the bar. Castiel remembered slightly that he had chosen that bar to drink his misery away because of the funny name.

“Yes, the funny name”, he reminded himself, amused, while Meg dragged him down the street, searching for a taxi.

“You’re kinda wasted, aren’t you?” she said. Castiel had to look at her to make sure she was smiling.

“Not as much as I’d like to” he clarified.

“Where to, Clarence?” she asked as she waved a taxi.

Castiel was about to spell out his old address, but stopped. He’d suddenly remembered why he didn’t lived there anymore, and started feeling down again. He muttered his brothers’ address instead.

“I’m going nearby” the waitress said, and climbed onto the car next to him. Castiel had the impression that she lying and actually just wanted to make sure he made it okay, but he didn’t really mind. It had been a while since somebody took care of him at all.

Castiel rolled down the taxi’s windows, and let the cool winter wind crush against his face. It hadn’t snowed all season, save for a few weak needles that had melted as soon as they touched the ground, but it was a cold night. Castiel noticed that Meg was hiding her hands inside the jacket to keep them warm, and started taking off his trench coat.

“Don’t, Clarence” she stopped him, as soon as she saw him. “I don’t need a knight in shining armor.”

Castiel took it off and put her over her shoulders anyway. He wasn’t trying to be a knight in shining armor. It was just the way he was raised. He was supposed to offer women his coat when it was chilly, he was supposed to be nice to people.

Of course, that niceness was what had started the chain of events that ended with him drunk and alone on an unknown bar on Christmas Eve…

“We’re here,” the driver announced.

Meg paid him, and they both got out.

“I can take it from here,” Castiel said, not wanting to bother her any further.

“Right,” Meg said, as she saw the taxi drive away. None of them had told the driver to hold it. “I can just walk…”

“What? No, I can’t allow that,” Castiel said. “Come on up, I’ll call you another.”

Meg turn to look at him, with an eyebrow arched.

“Why are you so sweet on me, Clarence?”

“I don’t know,” Castiel replied, and it was the truth.

They rode the elevator in silence, and Castiel hold the door for her when they entered the apartment. It was an automatic gesture.

It wasn’t until she’d walked inside that he realized that Balthazar and Gabriel could be there and mistake Meg’s presence for something that hadn’t even crossed his mind until that moment. Castiel had grown immune to his brothers’ teasing and jokes, but he didn’t want them to be rude to Meg, after she was so kind to him.

“Wait here!” he warned her, and practically sprinted across the living room towards the kitchen. Fortunately, he found neither of his brothers, only a note that read _Don’t wait up for us! B & G_ with an obscene drawing on the margin. Castiel sighed in relief and returned to the living room, where Meg was still standing, looking slightly surprised. “It’s clear,” he said.

“Clear of what?” she asked, smiling. “You live with some sort of monster that eats damsels in distress?”

“Something of the sorts,” Castiel admitted.

“Glad to see you recovered your balance,” Meg added. Her eyes moved slowly form Castiel’s face to his feet, and he felt the blood rushing to his head.

“I guess I had,” he mumbled. His head was clearer, but he wasn’t quite himself yet. “I’ll call you that taxi…”

“Don’t you want your coat back first?” Meg asked.

“I… I supposed.”

Castiel took a couple of steps towards her. He hadn’t notice before, but she was immensely pretty. Scratch that, she was beautiful. Her hair was long and wavy, framing her rounded face that was blushed. Her big brown eyes had a playful sparkle on them, and her lips still held that semi-smile that made Castiel’s heart skip a beat.

He was standing in front of her now, and he didn’t remember how he got so close. She was immobile, staring at him, her arms limp, her expression not changed in the least. He swallowed, waiting for her to do something.

“Take it off me,” she said. Her voice had dropped to a raspy whisper, and Castiel couldn’t help but to obey. He put his hand over her shoulders, wrestling with his own coat, because his fingers had started trembling, and his heart was beating faster yet.

Finally, he managed to pull the coat down her arms, and he stepped an inch closer to her… just enough for Meg to kiss him.

Her mouth was warm and tasted like strawberries, her hands were now around his neck. Castiel didn’t know how to react, but his hands did: they wandered down Meg’s arms until they reached her waist, and pulled her closer to him, until he could feel all of her curves pressing against his body.

Meg broke apart after a few breaths; and put her chin over his shoulder to mutter in his ear:

“Why don’t you show me your bedroom?”

Castiel laced his fingers with hers, and led her to the room his brothers had assigned him. He had stop thinking the moment her lips touched his, he had stopped worrying about everything else that was on his mind that night. All that he knew was that he had this gorgeous woman in his arms, kissing him again, hungrily, while her fingers unbuttoned his shirt and her jacket fell to the floor; and that the pounding of his heart had gotten so loud it drowned everything else.

He fell on the bed, his bare back against the pillows, and Meg took off her blouse with one fluid movement, before getting on top of him, both of her legs pressing against his thighs, and kissed him again, this time on the neck. Castiel felt all the air leaving his lungs, and yet, he somehow found a moment of clarity in his excitement. He pushed her off a little.

“I don’t… I don’t have a…” he huffed, and thankfully, she understood.

“I do,” she said, getting up. “And you have better taken those off when I get back,” she added, as she left the room.

Castiel took two seconds to catch his breath, and then hastily took off the rest of his clothes, while turning on his bedside lamp. Then he wondered what the hell he was doing. That wasn’t him. He didn’t have one night stands or “hook-ups”, as Gabriel called them. He hadn’t asked her to come up in the hopes of having sex. He wasn’t even sure he _could_ have sex, physically speaking, given that he was still recovering from his failed attempt at drinking himself into unconsciousness.

No, that wasn’t right. He had to tell Meg he was sorry, but it just couldn’t happen. He got on his feet to start picking up his clothes, and then the waitress walked back into the room.

She wasn’t wearing anything.

And just like that, Castiel found out that having sex that night was, indeed, physically possible.

“Is that for me?” Meg asked, with a wicked grin.

Castiel opened his mouth to say something, but Meg walked towards him and pushed him on the bed again.

“Relax, Clarence. It’s just an early Christmas present for you,” she giggled, and got on top of him again, before leaving a trail of light kisses that went from his collarbone to his shoulder and his chest.

“W-wait…” he panted, when he felt her getting near her crotch.

But she didn’t listen, or didn’t want to listen, because the next thing he felt was that she had taken him into his mouth. Castiel gasped, and clutched the bedspread underneath him, a shiver of pleasure coming down his spine. He closed her eyes while Meg’s mouth worked his cock, advancing inch by inch, agonizingly slow, spreading the condom on him, and a groan escaped his lips when he stopped feeling her. He opened his eyes. Meg was on top of him again, staring down at him with a serious face.

“Touch me,” she ordered, and Castiel didn’t have to be told twice.  He raised his hands to feel her face, and then let his fingers fall down to her breasts. He gently caressed her nipples with his thumbs, as she kept lowering and lowering her hips.

Castiel found himself inside her, her body wrapping him up in her warmth, her face an expression of pure delight. She dug her nails into his shoulder as she started moving; small, soft gasps coming out of her half-parted lips. Castiel couldn’t think of a more stunning sight, or a time where he had been more aroused. He could only think about her, watched her enjoying herself, completely in control over him. And he just let go, all the concerns and worries and good intentions gone to hell; he just closed his eyes and let the ecstasy drag him away.

The moment he did that, she stopped.

“No, no, no, Clarence,” she scolded him, like he was a small child. “Open your eyes.”

Castiel did, and found her face inches away from his, her eyes shining thanks to the dim light in the room.

“I want you to see me,” she said. “I want you to watch as I come. Do you understand?”

Castiel couldn’t answer, because he was having troubles remembering how to speak, so he just nodded. Meg took his hands, and put them right over her ass. She was moving faster now, lunging herself quicker and quicker against him, a thin veil of sweat covering her skin. Castiel felt the pressure building up in his lower stomach and had the impulse to close his eyes, but he fought it, not wanting her to stop, not daring to disobey her.

Meg let out a loud moan and leaned backwards, presenting him with a full view of her body shivering under the force of her orgasm, and that was more than enough to push him over the edge. Castiel sat as he released all the tension, his arms around her once again, his face pressing against her breasts, and for one glorious instant, he didn’t know where his skin ended and where hers began. All that he knew was that she was there, holding him, and he had completely lost his mind in that bliss.

It was definitely better than drunken oblivion.


	2. Chapter 2

“I am  _never_ letting you drag me into another pre-Christmas party,” Gabriel complained, while holding a can of frozen beans against his eye. “ _Never_ , you hear me?”

“Oh, please,” said Balthazar, cheerily busying himself with the coffee maker. “It was fun when that guy took a swing at you.”

“Only ‘cause  _you_ weren’t at the receiving end of the punch!” Gabriel retorted. Balthazar opened his mouth to say something, but, instead, he left his jaw hanging like he’d just seen a ghost. Gabriel turned around to see what his brother was seeing... and adopted and expression as confused as his.

In their living room, there was a girl… a rather attractive, naked girl, except for a white shirt that was too big for her, leaning down to pick up her clothes from the floor. The girl looked back at them, a bra in her hand, and arched an eyebrow to the two. “Good morning,” she said, like it was the only logical thing to say in a situation like that.

“Morning, good morning…” the brothers muttered, as the girl disappeared again. The brothers turned to look at each other, like trying to confirm the other had seen her too.

“Was she here last night?” Balthazar asked, puzzled. “Was that all that clothing there last night?”

“I don’t know,” said Gabriel.

The girl reappeared; fully dressed this time, and paused for a moment in front of the mirror they kept at the entrance to comb her long brown hair with her fingers.

“Do you think the door downstairs will be open?” she asked them.

“Probably,” said Balthazar.

“The doorman should be there,” added Gabriel.

“Okay, then I’ll let myself out,” the girl said, buttoning her jacket before getting her purse.

“Don’t you… want some coffee before you go?” offered Balthazar, raising a cup for her to see.

“Maybe another time,” she said. “Merry Christmas” she finished, before closing the door behind her.

“Christmas, Merry Christmas…” the brothers mumbled, even though she was already gone. A few seconds passed before either of them could speak again.

“Yours?” asked Gabriel.

“Not that I recall,” Balthazar shrugged. “And she looked rather memorable, don’t you think?”

“Yeah,” said Gabriel, with a chuckle. “So, wait… if she isn’t yours… and I’m pretty sure she wasn’t mine, then…”

The two brothers stared at each other, dumbstruck.

“Castiel?”

 

* * *

 

 

Castiel woke up with light nausea and a bit less-than-light headache. It took him a minute to recall why he had gone to sleep naked, and why his pillows and sheets were all in disarray. Then it hit him, and he sat up, looking around.

“Meg?” he called, tentatively. He knew it was useless. She wasn’t there.

Trying not to move his head more than it was necessary, Castiel got up and found his pajama bottom under the bed, where he supposed they’d ended thanks to the previous night rendezvous. Hook up, he corrected himself. It had been a hook up. His first hook up ever.

He dragged himself to the bathroom, and practically raided the medicine cabinet searching for an aspirin. After he swallowed a couple and wash his face furiously with cold water, he noticed something at the edge of the sink that couldn’t belong to him or any of his brothers: a small tube of lip gloss. He opened it, and a characteristic scent reached his nose. Strawberries. Meg.

Once he hid the lip gloss in his bedroom and got dressed, he headed to the kitchen to fill his system with caffeine.

“Good morning,” his brothers greeted him.

“What happened to you?” asked Castiel, seeing the black eye on Gabriel’s face.

“Never try to hit on a girl until you’ve confirmed she doesn’t have a boyfriend,” Gabriel said, with an expression of utter martyrdom.

“Or until you’ve seen how big said boyfriend is,” continued Balthazar, while he poured a cup of coffee for Castiel.

“Oh, God, the guy was a freaking mastodon!” Gabriel complained. “What is _wrong_ with girls these days? Why do they have to go out with goddamn giants? Why can’t they be happy with a short, funny boy like me?”

“Oh, shut up, I don’t want to hear you bitching,” Balthazar interrupted him. “I want to know about our little brother’s night,” he said, with leaning his elbows on the table and giving Castiel a significant glance.

“That’s right,” Gabriel beamed, mischievously. “How was _your_ night, Cas?”

Castiel looked at them both, suspecting that an endless storm of jokes was about to fall on his head, and tried an innocent answer:

“It was okay…”

“Okay?” asked Balthazar disappointed.

“Okay?!” screamed Gabriel, scandalized “Dude! What about the super model that came out of your room earlier?”

“Oh, leave it, Gabe, he’s such an idiot he probably offered her the washing machine when she started taking off her clothes or something.” Balthazar seemed completely frustrated.

“I did not do that!” Castiel tried to defend himself.

“Oh, so you’re telling us that you, Saint Castiel, actually got laid last night?” Gabriel rolled his eyes in disbelief.

Castiel just took a sip of his coffee, without realizing he was smiling like a fool. His brothers stared at him, incredulous.

“Well, it’s a Christmas miracle!” Balthazar exclaimed.

“Now I _need_ to know! Who was she? How did you find her?” cried Gabriel. “Did Santa bring her to you?”

“Her name is Meg,” Castiel sighed, knowing they weren’t going to get off his back until he had given them the details. “She is a waitress at this bar I found. She brought me home because I was in no condition to drive… which reminds me, my car is still there.” Castiel finished his coffee and stood up. “I need to pick it so we can go to Raphael’s.”

“Oh, damn, the Christmas dinner!” Gabriel remembered. “Balt, I’m sick, I don’t think I can go…”

“You’re not stranding me with the choir boys again!” Balthazar gave him a murderous look. “And you!” he added at Castiel, who was trying to sneak away quietly. “Don’t change the subject! Are you going to see her again?”

Castiel stopped in his tracks. He couldn’t tell his brothers had no clue how exactly it came to happen in the first place. He had no idea why Meg had walked out without saying goodbye, or if she had left her lip gloss behind on purpose or by accident. He didn’t remember if she had even asked for his name or she’d just called him Clarence all night. It’d been completely improper of him, and he probably wouldn’t have done it if he hadn’t been as drunk and brokenhearted.

He didn’t know if he was ever going to see her again. And that thought didn’t bother him as much as it should.

So he just shot them another peaceful grin before turning his back on them to put on his coat.

“YOU DOG!” he heard Gabriel screaming in admiration.

“Our little Cas is growing up…” commented Balthazar, with a fake quiver in his voice.

“Shut up, you two. And you better be ready when I get back!” he warned them as he left.

 

* * *

 

On the way to the bar, Castiel realized there was a chance he would meet Meg there.

He hadn’t considered that possibility, too busy running away from the apartment and his brothers’ mocking, but now that he had a minute to think about it, the idea terrified him. What was he supposed to tell her? Was if she acted like nothing had happened? Or maybe she’d expect him to call her… but how would he do that if she hadn’t given him her number?

Castiel was at the edge of telling the driver to turn around, and then take the bus to Raphael’s place, even though Gabriel and Balthazar would never stop reminding him of his cowardice. But then, incoherent images of last flashed through his mind, and something inside his chest started burning. It wasn’t anxiety exactly, but maybe… expectation.

They’d had a good time, right? It’d been atypical, yeah, but he couldn’t deny he had enjoyed it. Maybe she’d felt the same way. Maybe they could go out for a coffee sometime. There was no reason to be nervous. He’d just… play it cool, as Balt would say.

Meg wasn’t at the Monster’s Den. In fact, the bar was depressively empty when Castiel arrived. The only person who was there was the barman from the night before, the one that was dancing to the rhythm of the carolers. He was taking out empty bottles and putting them in a black plastic bag as he screamed out loud along an aggressive rock song that was blasting from an out-of-style music player. Castiel had to practically walk up to the guy and wave his hand in front of him to get his attention.

“Hey!” the man said, and then added something that Castiel didn’t catch among the guitars and drums resounding against the walls.

“What?!”

The barman stopped the music.

“You’re the trench coat guy,” the barman repeated. “You’re here for your keys?”

 “Yes, thank you,” said Castiel, relieved that he needed no further explanation.

“Meg left them somewhere,” the barman said, looking around like he expected Castiel’s key chain to pop out of thin air. “Just one second.”

“I’m in a little bit of rush…”

“So am I!” the bartender said, while searching the cabinets beneath the counter. “My brother and his fiancée insist on having a fancy dinner when we could just open the place and have a Christmas celebration like Jesus Christ himself would have wanted us to… ah, here they are!” he exclaimed triumphant, shaking the keys in his right hand. “Catch ‘em!” he added, throwing them at Castiel, who raised his hand… which didn’t prevent the keys from flying by him and lading nosily on the floor. “Or not, that works too.”

“Thanks,” said Castiel, sarcastically.

“Sorry, man,” the barman shrugged. Castiel slid the keys into his pocket and was about to leave when he noticed what the other guy had said.

“So you’re not… opening tonight?” he asked, insecure about why that mattered.

“Nope. But we are having a big alcohol fueled party on New Year’s Eve, though!” the barman told him, joyfully. “So, if you know any people who are into that kind of stuff…”

“I definitely do,” said Castiel, thinking about Gabriel and Balthazar.

“Really? You seemed more like the lonely drinker type to me,” the barman explained, while he picked up again the plastic bag.

“I’m sorry, what?” asked Castiel, confused.

“You know… lonely drinker, you sit in misery, pretend to be drunker than you are, get the pretty waitress to walk you home,” said the barman, as he went on his knees to reach for a bottle under one of the tables. “Well played, bro.”

“I… wasn’t playing,” Castiel replied, changing his weight from one foot to the other. The barman snorted.

“Sure you weren’t. And now you’re gonna tell you didn’t have sex with Meg.”

Castiel swallowed, uncomfortable. No, he could not say that.

“I think I better leave.”

“Okay. Nice to meet you, ehm… Trench Coat!” the barman waved a hand full of bottles at him.

“It’s Castiel!”

“What kind of name is _that_?” the barman asked. Castiel just continued to walk towards the door, and even before he crossed it, the barman had turned on the music once again; even louder if that was possible.

Outside, it had started snowing very lightly. Castiel’s car had a layer of ice on top of it, and it was probably glacial inside. He looked at his watch. It was passed noon. If he didn’t hurry up, they’d be late for Raphael’s sermon and later dinner and there would be hell to pay.

Yet, he couldn’t take off his mind what the barman had said. What if that’s what Meg had thought too? Was that the reason she had left so quietly? Oh, God, he hoped he hadn’t offended her. He hadn’t really meant to trick her into anything or something like that…

When Castiel walked back in, the barman was standing on top the counter, playing an air guitar and singing at the top of his lungs to an invisible crowd of enthusiastic groupies.

“Thank you, ladies, I love you too!” he screamed, throwing kisses at the empty place. He froze when he saw Castiel. “Ehm… I was just…”

“I need a favor,” Castiel cut him off. The barman, whose name was Dean Winchester, agreed as long as Castiel never told anybody what he had seen.

 

* * *

 

 

Raphael always looked majestic on his preacher gown. Castiel thought the only other preacher that looked at majestic as him was their father, and in many ways, Raphael was a lot like him, especially when he was standing at the church’s podium.

Michael and Raphael were his oldest brothers, and they had followed their father’s footsteps. In time, Raphael had taken over their father’s parish and congregation. And also, as Castiel saw it, many of their father’s tradition: the Obligatory Christmas Banquet, as Gabriel called it, was just the most prominent of them. It started with the afternoon service, in which Raphael always gave a beautiful sermon. This year, he had chosen the topic of family:

“Family sometimes can be difficult” he said. “Look at me: I have no less than five brothers and a sister, and I can count how many times I’ve wanted to kill them all.”

“Amen!” exclaimed Balthazar from the back seat he, Gabriel and Castiel were sitting.

“Like right now, for example” said Raphael, and the congregation gave a quiet laughter in response. “A lot of people asked my mom: why did you have to adopt as many children as you did? One or two, I get, but seven? Seems exaggerated, doesn’t it? My mother used to say, God hadn’t given her the chance to bear children, but He had provided her with a heart big enough to love as many as she could stack in her house. And sometimes it definitely felt like we were literally stacked one on top of the other, didn’t it, sister?”

Anna, who was the main singer of the choir, gave an energetic nod that granted them more laughs from the church goers.

“Ah, yes, we’d had many difficulties over the years. Different opinions, different choices that ended up with us scattered around the world. My older brother, Michael, right now, is far away from home, spreading God’s word to the people of Peru. But even though he can’t be here, the rest of my brothers and my sister are, some of them with families of their own. My house is going to be a mess tomorrow,” he sighed, and the parish laughed once again. “But tonight, we’ll gather around to share this night with each other, just as our mom and dad would have wanted. Isn’t that what Christmas is all about?”

“Amen!” the congregation answered, as Anna led the choir into the last song of the service.

 

* * *

 

 

Raphael’s house had an enormous dining room, adorned with an equally big Christmas tree. Kelly, Raphael’s wife, had prepared a gargantuan dinner that was being hastily devoured by Gabriel and Balthazar, while Anna taught Sophie and Sarah, Raphael’s daughters, how to sing an old carol their mother had taught them. Alfie, the youngest of the brothers, had dragged his boyfriend Garth for him to meet the family for the first time, and the poor boy seemed nervous as hell. Over the chimney, Preacher Abbot and his wife looked over their family from the portraits next to their urns. Castiel stopped for two seconds to present his respects to them before heading for the table with the baked potatoes Kelly had sent him to serve.

“So Garth,” Raphael was saying, looking severely at his potential brother in law. “Alfie tells me you are a… computer specialist of some kind?”

“I’m an I.T. expert, yeah,” Garth answered.

“So what exactly do I.T. experts do?” asked Raphael.

“Well, we… you know, take care of the computers of the company,” Garth tried to explain. Raphael seemed to expect a longer answer. “Sometimes computers break and we… fix them.”

“I didn’t know you liked geeks, Alfie,” said Balthazar, while stealing a sausage from Gabriel’s plate. “Doesn’t he look a little thin to you, Gabe?”

“Indeed, Balt. He looks nothing like those muscular, tanned guys in the posters Alfie used to hang in his room,” Gabriel answer, and stole the sausage back while Balthazar laughed. Alfie’s face reddened and Garth seemed even more confused than before.

“Yeah, well… says the guy who tried to get a girl and got punched instead,” answered Alfie, recovering instantly.

“Cas!” Gabriel protested, turning to his brother.

“I didn’t tell him,” said Castiel, chewing a potato.

“Nobody told me. I deduced it,” said Alfie, smiling satisfied.

“How?”

“Well, Gabriel… I know you,” Alfie shrugged and Raphael let out a long cheerful laugh.

Anna, Sophie and Sarah finished their songs and applauded each other as Kelly came out of the kitchen carrying a pudding the size of her head.

“I hope you guys saved some space,” she said, leaving the plate on the middle of the table.

“It looks delicious, Kelly,” Anna praised her.

“Sarah, what’s wrong, baby?” asked Raphael, noticing her youngest daughter had a sad expression.

“It’s Claire’s favorite dessert,” Sarah explained.

Every conversation on the table stopped, and Castiel was pretty sure everybody was staring at him. Not that he cared. Suddenly, all his remaining appetite had flown out of the window.

“Why couldn’t Claire come spend Christmas with us, Uncle Cass?” asked Sophie.

“Well, honey… she is spending Christmas with her mom this year,” said Castiel, and he didn’t sound convinced at all.

“But I wanted to show her what Santa brought me!” Sarah complained.

“Sweetheart, why don’t you come help mom at the kitchen?” Kelly asked, standing up. “You too, Sophie.”

Sophie and Sarah followed their mother into the kitchen. Garth stood up too, and excused himself to go to the bathroom, like he perceived this was a matter only the Abbot family was allowed to discuss. And he was right, in a way.

“So you don’t have plans to reconcile with Amelia, then?” asked Raphael.

“I told you, we signed the papers last month,” Castiel replied, for what felt like the thousandth time. “It’s final.”

“I can’t believe she won’t let you see Claire,” Alfie looked rightfully indignant. “She’s your daughter too!”

“Maybe if you just tried talking to her...” Raphael recommended. “You might have divorced her, but she is still your wife to her in the eyes of God.”

“How can you be so thick, Raph?” said Anna, siding with Castiel immediately. “He caught her cheating on him! She’s an adulteress in the eyes of God, and the Bible says she should be stoned to death, but I don’t see you suggesting that!”

“Besides, we don’t have enough weed to stone her to death,” pointed Gabriel.

“And if we did, we wouldn’t waste it on Amelia,” added Balthazar.

“Guys!” Castiel exclaimed. The girls had walked back just in time to hear that last exchange.

“Can they do that?” asked Sarah, looking up her older sister.

“Don’t be silly, of course not,” said Sophie, adopting a know-it-all attitude. “Weed is too flimsy to stone somebody to death!”

Balthazar was the first to let out a chuckle, and before too long, all of the Abbots were laughing loudly, even Raphael.

 

* * *

 

 

“Oh, Cas, I really hope these two aren’t dragging you into their sinful way of life,” said the oldest brother later on, once the good humor at the table was recovered, the girls were sent to bed and Kelly made coffee for everyone.

“We wouldn’t dare!” Balthazar raised his arms like trying to defend himself from that terrible accusation.

“And besides, we don’t have to,” Gabriel continued. “He’s already in.”

Castiel kicked Gabriel under the table. He didn’t need Raphael shaming him for having a one night stand. He could do that very well on his own. But the preacher had already heard them.

“What do they mean, Castiel?” he asked, looking severely at him.

“When have these two meant anything seriously?” As always, Anna came to his rescue. Raphael didn’t look convinced, but to Castiel’s relief, he let it go.

 

* * *

 

 

“But really, Cass, what did they mean?” Anna wanted to know, as everyone was saying their goodbyes at the front door. Castiel thought the story was way too long to tell it, so he just gave her the short version.

“I… might have met somebody,” he said, avoiding his sister’s eyes.

“That’s great!” Anna cheered. “What’s her name?”

“Meg,” Castiel responded, even thought he felt like he was walking on thin ice.

“What does she do? How old is she?” asked Anna.

“We are still getting to know each other,” Castiel replied. Somewhere in Heaven, he was sure his dad was tut-tutting at him.

“Well, I’m really happy for you, bro,” Anna gave him a friendly punch that made Castiel want to confess everything and ask for forgiveness.

Luckily, Gabriel and Balthazar approached them and tried to hug Anna at the same time, and the three of them ended on the cold grass, laughing like children.

“Stay out of trouble, you two,” Anna warned them. “And don’t give Cass a hard time!”

“When have we ever done such a thing?” said Balthazar, falsely offended. Castiel dragged him and Gabriel to the car before they had time to blow out the pretty little lie he had told Anna.

 

* * *

 

 

Castiel couldn’t sleep that night. He turned and turned on his bed, with too many things running through his mind Anna had been happy for him just because he hadn’t specified the circumstances in which he had met Meg. What would she think if he told her he was drinking at the Monster’s Den on Christmas Eve because Amelia hadn’t allow him to gave Claire the present he’d bought for her? And that he ended having sex with a stranger as a result?

Castiel, Anna and Alfie were the three youngest of the Abbots, and as such, they had always shared a closest relationship than with their other siblings. So maybe Anna and Alfie would have understood, Castiel thought, and Balthazar and Gabriel would’ve probably offered him a drink or even a joint. Raphael would’ve been disapproving, and Michael… well, Castiel was glad he was so far away.

In any case, none of them would advice him to call her. Even his two most liberal brothers would say a one night stand should stay that way. It didn’t matter if it took his mind from things like not seeing his daughter for three weeks. It didn’t matter if it was with this stunning woman he couldn’t stop thinking about. Almost unwillingly, Castiel reached for the top drawer of his night stand, and searched for the lip gloss tube. Maybe they were right. Maybe it was better off if Meg remained a memory of a glimpse of paradise.

He opened the tube, and the smell of strawberries destroyed all of his pretensions of self-control.

One thing was clear: he wanted to see Meg again. 


	3. Chapter 3

Castiel raised his head again when he heard the door being opened. He had been doing that every time someone entered the cafe, with no luck. He supposed it was his fault, for arriving twenty minutes earlier. He had been tapping his fingers on the table, playing with this keys and his cell phone, arranging the napkins over and over again, and not touching his coffee because he was too nervous to drink. He had double and even triple checked the address and the name of the bar, and when he wasn’t looking at the rest of the tables in case he had missed her, he was staring at his watch like he could make it move faster on willpower alone. The waiters probably thought he was going insane, and he was, sort of.

The call had been awkward and clumsy. Castiel had spent several minutes staring at himself in the mirror to build up the confidence necessary to pick up the phone. But the minute he heard her voice at the other side of the line, he froze, forgetting what he was supposed to be saying. 

“Hello? Hello?” asked Meg. There was confusion in her voice. Castiel took a deep breath.

“Hello, hi… it’s… Castiel,” he said, and then he recalled she didn’t know his name. “Ahm… Clarence.”

There was a silence of about two seconds that had been eternal to him.

“Well, hi,” Meg sounded surprised now. “How did you get my number?”

“Dean gave it to me,” Castiel admitted. “I’m sorry, am I… bothering you?”

“No, not at all,” she assured him. “It’s just… I didn’t think I’d hear from you again.”

Castiel didn’t know what that meant. Have she wanted to hear from again? Or had she just… not been expecting it? Maybe she’d wanted it to be just a one night stand and leave it at that?

“You still there?”

“Yes, yes, sorry,” Castiel snapped back, and decided he needed to know. “I was wondering if you’d like to meet me… for coffee or something? This… this Friday, maybe?” he finished, and wished that he could kick himself for how incredibly dense he was sounding.

“I gotta work on Friday,” said Meg. Castiel felt something inside him deflating.

“Oh. I see.”

“But I can do Thursday,” offered Meg.

So there he was now, twisting and twirling on his seat, nervous and unable to stop staring at the door. The thought that she might have changed her mind came to him a couple of times, but he ignored it, even though it made him start biting his nails.

And just when he was thinking he couldn’t take it anymore, she walked in.

She was wearing torn up jeans and high heels mid-cut boots, and the same violet jacket she had when they first met. She swept through the cafe with her eyes and spotted him. Castiel had to stop himself from waving, as she was already walking towards the table.

“Hello,” she said, as she sat in front of him.

“Hi. I’m glad you could make it,” Castiel said. And he really was. The knot in his stomach seemed to loosen up a bit when she smiled at him. The waiter took her order, and Castiel asked for another coffee, as his had grown cold.

“So… how you’ve been?” Castiel asked, because he wasn’t really sure how to start that conversation.

“Good, good. Keeping myself busy.”

The waiter brought them their coffees, and then left them to an uncomfortable silence.

“Mind if I ask you something?” Meg said, after a few seconds. “What kind of name is Castiel?”

“Well, my father was a preacher. Me and my brothers all got angel’s names,” Castiel explained, happy to have something semi-coherent to say.

“Ah. Suits you,” she muttered, and took a sip.

Another embarrassing pause.

“Meg…” tried to say Castiel, but she interrupted him.

“Cas… can I call you Cas?” she asked, and Castiel nodded. “Look, I know why you called me.”

“You do?” Castiel wasn’t sure of the reason himself.

“Yes. You want to have sex with me again,” Meg declared, calmly. Castiel rubbed the back of his neck while flushing.

“I, uhm… I…” he stuttered.

“It’s okay. When two people have sex and it doesn’t suck, they will most likely want to do it again,” she shrugged. “And it didn’t suck.”

“No, no, it didn’t”, Castiel agreed, and took a big gulp of his coffee. The heat and the caffeine renewed a little bit of his courage. “Why did you approach me that night?”

“I don’t know,” Meg confessed. “You just seemed so lost and sad and I got the feeling you kinda needed it.”

“Okay, for the record, I-I… I wasn’t playing the lonely drinker,” he said. He needed to get that out of the way as soon as possible.

“I know, I can tell the difference,” Meg gave him another smile, and drank, before placing his cup on the plate, very slowly. “Let me be honest with you… I’m not interested in a relationship right now.”

The knot in Castiel’s stomach tightened up again, so firmly the man wondered how come his intestines weren’t coming out of his mouth.

“I understand,” he said, lowering his eyes. It had been just a one-night stand after all. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” she frowned, confused.

“For… you know, calling you,” Castiel grab a napkin and started twisting it. “I shouldn’t have troubled you…”

“Who said you did?” Meg leaned on the table, so her face was closer to Castiel’s. “I said I’m not interested in a relationship, not that I didn’t want to see you again. Or… sleep with you again,” she added with a suffocated giggled.

Castiel was startled.

“But…”

“You haven’t been out a lot, I see,” Meg looked amused. “Does the expression ‘friends with benefits’ mean anything to you?”

“Sort of,” said Castiel. He made a note to ask Gabriel about it later.

“Then that’s what we’d do. We keep it simple, casual, we part ways with no hard feelings when the time comes,” Meg explained. “If you agree.”

Castiel drank down what was left of his coffee. The conversation hadn’t quite turned out the way he expected to, but then again, would Meg ever do what he expected her to? Of course she wouldn’t. Meg wasn’t like anyone he had met before, and she had stormed into his life announced. And now that she had, he wanted her to stay. He decided right then that he’d take what he could get.

“Casual,” he repeated. “Sounds good.”

“Great,” Meg said. “Dean’s having a party on New Year’s Eve. You know, at the Monster’s Den.”

“He told me about it,” Castiel remembered.

“I’ll see you there?”

Castiel was about to tell her he had never been much of a party guy, that he’d always felt out of his depth at that sort of events, and that he had two left feet. But then, that had been the same guy who never in his life would have imagined having a friend with benefits.

“Sure. Why not?”

 

* * *

 

 

“You lucky dog!” Gabriel kept screaming. “You lucky, lucky dog! You know how many times I’ve tried to pull the ‘let’s keep it simple’ thing?" 

“Far too many,” pointed Balthazar.

“And now you have some chick pull it on you?” added Gabriel. He looked scandalized.

“Meg is not… ‘some chick’, okay?” Castiel was trying to decide what to wear at the New Year’s Eve party, and his brothers, instead of helping, were just invading his room and glaring at him enviously. “She’s…”

“She’s a one night stand you’ve agreed to have casual sex with,” Balthazar clarified. “How important can she be?”

Castiel didn’t even try to answer them, as he was pretty sure his brothers wouldn’t understand, and just pull a sweater from his cupboard.

“You’re gonna wear… that?” asked Gabriel.

“What’s wrong with it?” asked Castiel, putting it on. It was just a blue sweater to keep him warm, nothing fancy.

“I have never seen a look that screamed ‘I’m a divorced graphic designer’ as loudly as this one,” Balthazar pointed disapprovingly at everything, from his shirt to his jeans to his shoes.

”But I _am_ a divorced graphic designer…”

“When was the last time you went to a party?” asked Gabriel.

“Well, you dragged me to one last month,” Castiel remembered.

“That wasn’t a party; that was going for drinks to celebrate that you officially got rid of the bitch,” Balthazar explained, as if Castiel was a two-year-old.

“Don’t talk about Amelia like that. She’s still the mother of my daughter,” Castiel scolded them.

“The daughter she won’t let you see,” Balthazar reminded him.

“Because she’s a bitch,” Gabriel concluded.

Castiel sat on the bed with a sigh. Maybe going to this party wasn’t the best idea after all. Maybe everything relating Meg wasn’t the best idea either…

“Look, Cas, we know you’re having a hard time,” Balthazar interrupted his thoughts. “We’re just trying to help.”

“Yeah, we want you to get out there, have a little fun. You deserve it, after all the moping around you’d been doing,” Gabriel said. “We are your brothers. We want to see you happy.”

“Wow,” Castiel looked at both of his brothers alternatively. That was, by far, the nicest thing they’d ever said to thing. “You guys… really?”

“Nope, we’re just hoping things work out with Meg so you move in with her and we can have our apartment back,” Balthazar confessed.

“Now, will you _please_ let us get you dressed so you can get some tonight?”

Of course. Castiel raised his hands in defeat.

“You’re the experts.”

 

* * *

 

 

Well, it wasn’t as bad as he had thought. Of course, he was freezing in Balthazar’s leather jacket, and he was pretty sure those jeans were cutting off the circulation of some crucial artery, but his brothers had declared it a winner, and he decided to just go with it. 

The freezing sensation abandoned him as soon as the three of them got inside the Monster’s Den. The place was packed, people everywhere chatting and drinking, standing around. The music was blaring so deafening Castiel felt like his ears were bleeding. Dean was behind the counter, performing some very impressive tricks with a couple of bottles at the same he poured drinks for the people sitting in front of him. The ladies seemed particularly impressed, as they clapped and squealed every time he winked at them.

“Hey, Trench Coat!” he greeted Cas, screaming on top the music. “You made it! What’s up with the jacket?”

“It’s my brother’s!” Cas confessed, flushing. “Three beers, please!”

After Castiel got the drinks and returned to the table, Balthazar and Gabriel started to scan the place for possible dates. Obviously.

“Check out that blonde!” Gabriel shouted, pointed a very pretty girl standing at the other side of the room.

“Haven’t you flirted with her already?” asked Balthazar, frowning.

“Nah, I don’t think so!” Gabriel assured him.

“Meg!” Castiel called when he saw her passed, balancing a tray with several drinks. A smile crossed her face when she spotted him, and she made a gesture for him to wait on her.

“I’m gonna go talk to her!” Gabriel declared, standing up.

“Dude, seriously, I’m pretty sure you’ve already tried to hit on her!” Balthazar’s face was distorted in a concentrating expression. “I just can’t remember when…”

“Maybe it was a different blonde! You know I have soft spot for them!” Gabriel took a drink from his beer, and started making his way towards the blonde in question.

“Hey!” Meg showed up next to Castiel.

“Hey!” Castiel stood up… and he realized he didn’t know what to do. Should he kiss her? Should he shake her hands? How did friends with benefits say hello? He opted for the safe route of changing the subject. “This… this is my brother, Balthazar!”

“We’ve met!” Balthazar offered her his hand. “Hi!”

“Hi!” Meg smiled at him, and then turned her attention to Castiel. “Dean says I can have a minute! Wanna go somewhere quieter?”

“Okay!” Castiel left his beer at the table and followed her among the crowd. Balthazar shouted something he didn’t catch completely, but he was pretty sure it ended with ‘…luck!’

Meg led him further and further away from the crowd, her hand tightly locked on Castiel’s, who started to get a bit nervous when they passed the counter and then a door with a sign of ‘Staff Only’ on it.

“Where are we going?” he asked, but Meg only made him follow her through the door, into a dimly lighted room, with a desk and several boxes that, as Castiel presumed, were full of alcohol bottles. It took him a couple of seconds to notice he got his hearing back: all the noise from the bar was muffled in there. “Are we allowed to be here?” he asked, as Meg double-locked the door. “Won’t you get in trouble?”

“Relax, I’ve got incriminating pictures of Dean,” Meg chortled, as she turned around to look at him.

And as it had started happening more and more often, Castiel found himself speechless.

She was wearing a black tank top with the name of a band written over her chest, a very short jean skirt on top of black torn stockings, and high heel sneakers. She was a celestial sight to Castiel.

And just like that, she was in his arms again, her body tightly pressed against his, giving him a breathtaking kiss Castiel responded to enthusiastically.

“What happened to the trench coat?” she asked, while she took off the jacket of his shoulders.

“My brothers said it wouldn’t be adequate for tonight” Castiel admitted, running his fingers through her hair.

“I like it better,” she said. “It’s more… you.”

“I’m never wearing anything but the trench coat again,” Castiel promised, and Meg laughed, and sat on the desk.

“Come here, Clarence,” she purred. Castiel approached her and put his hands on the edge of her shirt, then stopped, like asking for permission. “Take it off, bad boy,” Meg told him. “You know you want to.”

Castiel obeyed and Meg moaned when he leaned down to kiss her on the shoulder. He was so concentrated on the burning sensations in his mouth and his fingertips he barely realized she had unbuttoned his jeans and slid a hand inside his boxers.

“So we meet again,” she giggled, and started caressing him so very slowly. Castiel halted, overwhelmed, but Meg wasn’t going to allow that. She took one of his hands, and gently guided it between her legs, while reclining just a bit more against the desk to give him better access. “You do know what I want from you, don’t you?” she asked in a husky voice. Castiel nodded, his breathing getting shallower and shallower. “Then what are you waiting for?” Meg said.

Castiel pressed his free hand against her back to hold her, while the other started exploring under Meg’s skirt. He took down her panties, just enough to feel her skin, so tender and already wet. She was kissing him, muttering soft orders in his ear at the same time she kept touching him right where he needed it, and he had to use all of his determination not to get distracted by how good it felt. He stroked her, clumsy at first, gaining confidence as she arched her back and groaned.

“Come on, Clarence,” she panted, and Castiel slid two fingers into her. Meg hid her face in his neck to suffocate a scream and Castiel felt her teeth sinking on his skin, her heart accelerating, her heat between his fingers, and all the sensations were too much. He came, calling out her name. Meg pushed harder, closer to him, and Castiel kissed her, desperately, hungrily, as he continued to move his fingers, until she too let out a shout of release.

They stayed still, waiting for their breathings to come back to normal, holding on to each other, with their eyes closed.

“You hear that?” she asked. It took a few seconds for Castiel, because the aftermath of his orgasm still clouded his mind, but then he did: thousands of little explosions coming from outside, along with several voices roaring their awe and congratulations.

“We’re missing the fireworks,” Castiel pointed, though there was nowhere he’d rather be right now than there, hugging her. Meg seemed to have the same opinion, because she placed a peck on his nose and said:

“We’ll have enough fireworks on our own,” and the added, with a smile: “Happy New Year, Clarence.”


	4. Chapter 4

Gabriel was staring at him with clouded eyes and a sad expression. 

"What?" Castiel asked, as he poured a cup of coffee.

"You have hickey," Gabriel informed him. Castiel rubbed the side of his neck, the place where Meg had bitten him. "It's not fair! How come you ended with a hickey and I ended with a broken nose?"

"Oh, come on, the doctor said it wasn't broken," Balthazar reminded him. "Just a little bit... misplaced."

Gabriel glared at him so intensely he was probably wishing Balthazar would drop dead. Gabriel had, indeed, a patch on his nose, and deep, awful violet circles under his eyes. That was part of the reason Meg and Castiel couldn't have more... fireworks: Dean had coming knocking on the door, calling Castiel to tell him his brother was in trouble.

"I told you, you already have tried hitting on that blonde!" said Balthazar. "I can't believe you didn’t remember her."

"That's because all I remembered was the moose she has for a boyfriend and his fist coming at me," Gabriel explained, then let out a groan. "Come on, what's going on? You remember those times I used to come home with a girl in each arm? And now I spent the first night of the year with my brothers in the emergency room."

"Well, Gabe..." Balthazar leaned on the table and adopted a serious expression (as serious as he could get, at least.) "Have you considered... not trying to get involved with college girls?"

"What do you mean?" Gabriel asked.

"Well, I don't know... maybe, date a girl your age?" Balthazar suggested, very carefully. Gabriel shot him a horrified look.

"Girls my age? Dude, girls my age are considered women! They’re over thirty!"

"You're thirty three," Balthazar reminded him.

"So? Castiel is thirty one, and he's dating a twenty-five year old super model!" Gabriel pointed.

"We're not actually dating, we're just..." Castiel began, but decided it was better to shut up about it and drink his coffee.

"Castiel just came out of jail, he's allowed to have meaningless sex for the first time in his life," Balthazar said. "You've been playing the field since you were seventeen."

"What's your point?" Gabriel asked, obviously not amused.

"You're not seventeen anymore, Gabe," Balthazar concluded.

Castiel started drinking his coffee faster, as Gabriel expression indicated he was ready to flip the table. He didn’t, luckily.

"You know, you look like Balthazar, you talk like Balthazar, but the words coming out of your mouth are Raphael's," he declared instead, annoyed. "I'm gonna go to work before you start suggesting we should go to church more often or something."

And with that, he stormed out of the kitchen. Balthazar let out a deep sigh.

"Well, I tried," he murmured, and got back to his coffee.

Castiel finished his, silently.

"I only say it for his own good, you know?" Balthazar said, like Castiel had accused him of something.

"I know," Castiel nodded. "You were always the only one who could talk some sense into him."

"Well, it's not like anyone else was going to," Balthazar rolled his eyes. "Dad, Michael and Raphael just guilted him, mom would let him do whatever he wanted; you, kids, were too young..."

"Is that why you went after him when he ran away?" Castiel asked. That had been a truly dire week for the Abbot family, before Balthazar came back dragging a seemingly regretful Gabriel behind him.

"Yeah. I have to keep his nose clean, you know?" Balthazar shrugged. "It's an ungrateful job, but someone has to do it..."

"For what it's worth, I think Gabriel does appreciate it," Castiel offered him.

"Of course he does," Balthazar sneered. "By the way, lover boy... you're going to be late for work."

Castiel looked at the clock, realized his brother was right, and ran through the door so fast he almost forgot his trench coat.

 

* * *

 

 

Halos Inc. was a small printing company where Castiel designed cover art for books and magazines for a living. He liked it there: his co-workers were friendly, the pay was okay, and it let him ventilate his most creative side. He had absolute liberty for the most part, but sometimes there would be writers or editors so obsessive that they would drop by to breathe down his neck and try to tell how to do his job. 

Such was the case of Carver Edlund, a horror-mystery writer, who kept telling him to redesign the covers of his books over and over again. Castiel sometimes wondered how the man had time to actually write if he just apparently spent all his awaken hours hammering him with stupid requests.

"No, no, the eyes are just not right," Carver was complaining that day. "They're not supposed to be that red."

"Carver, that's how you described them in your book," Castiel said, patiently. He had been forced to read it through at least three times, just to get Carver's 'vision' of the characters right. "The demon had crimson eyes."

"Yes, but these are not exactly crimson, are they?" Carver said, pointing at Castiel's project. "They're more like... scarlet."

Castiel felt the beginning of a headache growing behind his eyes, and turned to look at Carver's editor, who was busy writing in her cell phone.

"What he said," the editor murmured, without even looking up. "Crimson, not scarlet."

"Crimson," Castiel repeated, resigned. "Got it. I'll see what I can do."

"Why, thank you," the editor said, putting her phone away and giving him a fake nice smile. "We expect the new project for next week. Remember, we have a deadline, Chass!"

"It's Cas," he corrected, but Carver and his editor were already going out of the office. Castiel rubbed his face, tired. "Scarlet," he muttered to himself, turning to his computer again.

"Edlund giving you a hard time again?" asked a voice behind him. Castiel turned to look at Charlie, his boss' assistant.

"Do these eyes look scarlet to you?" Castiel asked, frustrated, showing her the amplified demon face on his computer screen.

"No, not exactly," Charlie said, leaning a little next to Castiel. Her long, bright orange hair touched his shoulder. "They're more like... crimson."

"Thank you!" Castiel exclaimed, but opened the files that contained the red shades samples again.

"You're gonna have to leave that for later," Charlie interrupted him. "The big guy wants to see you."

Castiel span on his chair.

"Really?" he asked, anxiously.

"He said it was urgent," Charlie added, in a singsong. "I'm guessing someone may get his well-deserved pay rise today."

"Oh, yes, that would be so great!" Castiel got up and straightened his shirt. "How do I look?"

"Very professional," Charlie assured him. "Except, you know, for the hickey."

Castiel rubbed his neck again, and then put on his scarf.

"I'll tell him I have a throat ache," he decided, as Charlie led him towards the boss' office.

"Because you're not allowed to have a sex life?" Charlie laughed.

"Not when the reason I'm asking for a pay rise it's 'cause I'm in debt after my divorce," said Castiel.

"Point taken," Charlie knocked on the door and announced him. "Good luck," she wished him, as he walked in.

Zachariah Smith, Castiel's boss, was talking on his free hands, arguing energetically with someone on the other side.

"Oh, come on, you know we can do that for half the price and double the quality," Zachariah was saying, as he strut arrogantly around his office. "Don't you 'please, buddy' me, Peter, we've been working for your editorial for years, and when have we failed you? And now you're telling me you're dropping the contract? You're killing me, man!"

He paused to listen carefully to what the guy on the other end was saying.

"Yes, thank you; that would be perfect. Thursday? Alright then, see you there!" Zachariah concluded and turned off his phone. "All editors are failed writers," he told Castiel, "and all writers are pains in the ass."

"Not arguing there," Castiel cleared his throat. "You wanted to see me, boss?"

"Yes, Abbot, come on in," he motioned for Castiel to sit in front of his desk. "How were your holidays?"

"They were okay, sir," Castiel told him. "I just... spent them with family and friends."

"Good, good," murmured Zachariah, as he searched for some papers around his desk. "I understand congratulations are in order?"

Castiel looked at him, confused. “I’m sorry?”

"You just got divorced?" Zachary reminded him.

"Oh... right," Castiel nodded, not sure why was that a reason to congratulate him.

"Was she your first wife?" Zachary asked.

"Yes, sir, she was," Castiel clarified.

"Well, it gets easier after the third or fourth, believe me," Zachary told him nonchalantly. "And I see you asked for a pay rise."

"Yes, sir, I'm barely able to afford child support," Castiel admitted.

"Oh, you have a kid!" Zachariah exclaimed.

"Claire. She's six," Castiel said, a bit nervous to be ventilating his problems to his boss.

"They're so cute at that age," Zachariah commented. "Well, Abbot, let me tell you something." The boss put his elbows over the desk, interlocked his fingers and leaned to look closer at Castiel. "I don't give a rat's ass."

If he had jumped over Castiel and tried to choke him with his bare hands, the effect wouldn't have been so devastating.

"E-Excuse me, sir?" Castiel stuttered.

"You heard me: I don't give a crap you have problems. We all have problems. My proctologist says I have to go see him this week, and that's not the way I planned to start my year. But do you see me sulking about it? No. Because I know nobody cares," Zachariah lashed at him. "So Abbot, if you really want this pay rise, you're going to have to convince me you are worthy of it."

Castiel wished the ground would open up and swallow him already. He moved his chair an inch closer to Zachariah's desk.

"Please, sir. I never asked for anything before. I've been working for Halos Inc. since I was fresh out of college. I've busted my ass..."

"Well, you're gonna have to bust it harder," Zachariah cut him off. "Good day, Abbot."

Before Castiel could reply, Zachariah had his nose back on his papers, and was ignoring him. Castiel got up, feeling beaten, and got out of the office. At the other side of the door, he found Charlie, who had obviously been eavesdropping. She gave a look of compassion.

"I am so sorry, Cas."

"That's okay, I don't know what I was expecting," he sighed. "He's right, I can't just ask for a pay rise. I need to earn it... I just don't know how to," he finished, frustrated.

Charlie's face lightened up a little.

"But I do!" she announced, happily, and beckoned Castiel to follow her to the water cooler. “Pretend we are talking.”

“But we are talking,” Castiel said, bemused.

"Just listen. I've been hearing rumors that the creative department doesn't have a strong management as the big guy would like," she confided him. "He might just want to take a new manager..."

"He’s gonna fire Naomi?!" Castiel yelled, scandalized. Charlie hushed him.

"Of course not… yet," she whispered. "But if he does, and I'm not saying he will for sure, he might consider putting someone younger, with fresher ideas for Naomi’s spot… even better if said person had worked for the company for a while. You get my drift?"

Castiel swallowed. Charlie was saying he was eligible for the job, if he could prove that he really wanted and was apt for it.

"You're awesome, Charlie," he told her, grateful.

"I know," Charlie smirked. "And all I ask in return is the number of that cute little sister of yours..."

"Anna? Ahm... sorry, but I don't think you're her type," Castiel apologized.

"You mean 'cause I'm short?"

"I mean 'cause you're a girl," Castiel clarified, and Charlie clicked her tongue.

"All the cute ones are straight," she complained.

Castiel smiled, and left her to go back to work, feeling a little better. When he returned to his desk, he found even more reasons to feel better: he'd received a text from Meg.

 

* * *

 

 

"Hi, there!" Meg welcomed him, as she opened the door. "You're very punctual, aren't you?"

"My brother Michael used to say I'm a Swiss clock," Castiel joked, and handed her the wine bottle he had brought. Meg received it, and invited him in.

Meg's apartment was much smaller that Balthazar and Gabriel's, but it was definitely neater and cozier. It had pictures of landscapes on the walls, a very comfortable couch, and a coffee table that was also her dining table, as she explained.

"I see the trench coat's back," Meg commented, looking for a corkscrew in the tiny kitchen that was separated from the living room by a counter.

"Yes," Castiel commented, looking fondly at the sleeves. "You were right. It is more... me."

Meg smiled and sat at the couch next to him, offering him a glass. She crossed her long legs, crammed into a very tight pair of black jeans, and took a sip of wine. Castiel forgot for a second that he was supposed to be breathing.

"You said in your text you wanted to talk," he said, because that was the only semi-intelligent thing he could manage to say.

"Why, yes, we hadn't had much time to do that, have we?" she said. "I mean, if we're gonna do this, we can't just jump at each other’s bones every time we meet. We have things to discuss. No matter how much I want to rip that trench coat off you right now."

Castiel drank from his own glass. He had been thinking about how much he wanted to kiss her right then and there.

"Okay, then... what do you want to talk about?" he asked.

"Just the basics," Meg said. "I got my test results yesterday. I'm clean."

"Clean?" repeated Castiel, baffled. Then he got it. "Oh, you mean..."

"I don't have anything you might catch," she informed him. "How about you?"

"I... well..."

Castiel was going to say he didn’t need any test, but then he remembered the other woman he had been sleeping with until a few months ago was also screwing around with their accountant on the side.

"I will get them done as soon as I can," he promised.

"Okay, then... there's that," Meg said. "And birth control, of course. I'm on the pill, but I think it would be wise if we continue to use condoms."

"Yes... yes, that would be wise," Castiel agreed, uncomfortable. Meg smiled at him.

"Not the kind of talk you were expecting, right?"

"I'm sorry, it’s just... I've never done this before," he confessed, blushing. "Having a... well, a friend like you," he said, hoping she wouldn't take in a wrong way. Luckily, Meg just laughed.

"That's okay. I just want to make sure we have fun, safely."

"Sounds like a rollercoaster," Castiel remarked.

"A little bit like that, yes," she conceded. "There was something else I wanted to ask you, but I'm pretty sure I already know the answer.” She stopped, like she was planning the best way to put it. "Have you ever tried any... not mainstream sex practices?"

Castiel emptied his glass in a hurry. He wasn't sure how much of that conversation he could take being completely sober.

"What... what do you mean 'not mainstream'?"

"Well, you might have noticed I like being in control during sex," she said. "And I like when you obey my every order."

Castiel's thought flew back to the first time they met, how she had taken the initiative, how she'd ordered him to keep his eyes opened...

"I noticed," he said, playing with the glass. "Can I have some more...?"

"No. I want you with a clear mind for this," Meg said, and Castiel decided the best defense was an attack.

"So... what are we talking about here? Chains and whips?" he asked, trying to sound light about it and failing spectacularly.

"Chains are overrated," Meg said. "But whips, I like."

Castiel couldn't think of an answer. He wasn't sure he could think coherently ever again.


	5. Chapter 5

“You still with me, Cas?”

It took a moment or two for Castiel to react.

“I think I need more wine,” he said, finally.

“I think you don’t,” Meg replied.

“Just a little…”

“No, Clarence.”

Castiel stiffened. Meg’s voice had gone from kind to severe, and the change, in view of what she had just declared, was a little frightening to him. Meg seemed to realize, because she added, in a softer tone:

“I freaked you out.”

“Yes, a bit,” Castiel admitted.

Meg put her glass on the coffee table and grabbed Castiel’s hand.

“Look… we don’t have to do any of that,” she said. “I just wanted you to know I’m… into that stuff, and asked you if you’d be willing to try it out with me. It’s okay if you aren’t.”

“Are you sure?” Castiel was still not completely certain about what ‘that stuff’ implied, but he wasn’t ready to find out.

“Let me put it this way. Do you like ice cream?” Meg asked.

“Everybody likes ice cream,” Castiel nodded.

“What’s your favorite flavor?”

Castiel was about to say chocolate, because it was chocolate; it had always been chocolate. But he took a look at Meg, and found himself saying:

“Strawberry.”

“Well, imagine BDSM is my strawberry ice cream,” Meg said, ignoring Castiel’s wince at the mention of the acronym. “Sometimes they don’t have that flavor in the store, so I just have to take a different kind of ice cream.”

“So… you won’t miss the strawberry ice cream?” Castiel asked, just to be sure they were on the same page.

“Maybe a little,” Meg shrugged. “But I’m adaptable. And I really like the… vanilla ice cream, you and I have,” she added. Her hand was now on Castiel’s knee, slowly moving up and down his leg.

“And why can’t I have more wine?” Castiel moved and inch closer to her, his fingers barely grazing her shoulder. It was like a magnetic attraction, he couldn’t help it.

“I don’t want you to agree to something you might regret when you sober up,” Meg explained, raising her face to him, a playful smile on her lips. Castiel wanted to kiss her really bad, but he still hadn’t quite recovered.

“So, it’s really fine if I don’t…?”

“Don’t say no right away,” Meg interrupted him. “Don’t say yes, either. Let it stew in that pretty little head of yours,” she place her other hand on Castiel’s forehead, and then let it slide to his cheek and his mouth. Castiel kissed her fingers, desperate to feel more of her skin. “Can you do that for me?” Meg asked.

“Yes, I’ll… let it stew,” Castiel promised.

“Okay,” Meg passed her leg over Castiel, and with one fluid moving, she was sitting astride on his lap. “Enough talking.”

 

* * *

 

 

Castiel had never in his life imagined it would be so easy to turn off that squeaky panicky voice in the back of his mind that kept telling him he was way in over his head. All it took was Meg guiding him to her room and removing his shirt, after along juicy kiss. She then ordered him to sit on the bed, and he did so, obediently, as she put on some music: a slow, melodious tune sang by a woman with powerful vocals he didn’t recognize.

“Has anyone ever told you are a very good looking man, Clarence?” she asked him, standing in front of him, in the space between the edge of the bed and her closet. She was once again using the husky tone that made Castiel’s ears buzz from the blood rushing to his brain.

“No, I don’t…” he stammered, but his tongue tied up in a very tight knot when he saw Meg was unbuttoning her blouse, teasingly slow. She slid it down to reveal a red lace bra that comprised her breast in the most adorable manner.

“You like it?” Meg smiled and let the blouse fall on the floor. “I chose it thinking of you.”

“It’s… it’s really…” Castiel couldn’t find the words. All his body was burning up with desire, and it only got worse when she took off her jeans and showed him the matching panties. “… you’re beautiful,” he gasped.

“And you’re not good at sexy talking,” Meg giggled. “It’s okay. I like that about you.”

She took a step closer, inches away from Castiel, but he didn’t dare to touch her. Not without a direct order, at least. He had noticed it was infinitely better if he just stopped thinking and let her direct, let her decide what they were going to do and how. And well, hadn’t she just told him she liked being in control? That was fine by him.

“I like that you’re so naïve,” she continued. “I like it that I can surprise you, that you’re completely at my mercy,” she put her hands under his chin and made him look up at her. “You haven’t been with many women, have you?”

“No… not many,” Castiel recognized.

“I don’t see why,” Meg answered, moving her thumbs in circles over Castiel cheeks. “Look at you… you’re such a gentleman, such a knight in shining armor. And those eyes,” she added, leaning to him, so her face was so close to his Castiel could feel her breath. “Those baby blue eyes of yours… you could bring any girl to her knees. In fact,” she said, a mischievous sparkle in her eyes, “I think I might drop to my knees myself.”

And she suited action to the word. Castiel couldn’t react until he heard the zip of his pants, and felt Meg’s hands on the edge of his boxers.

“Meg, wait,” he stopped her. Meg looked at him, an eyebrow raised in interrogation. “You don’t… you don’t have to…”

“But I want to,” she protested, with pursed lips. “Don’t you?”

“Y-Yes,” Castiel admitted. “But… you, you won’t…” He stopped, took a deep breath and tried to put his thoughts in order. “You won’t enjoy it.”

“Why would you say that?” Meg asked. “Why do you think that?”

“Well, it’s not… not a very… dominant position,” Castiel explained in shallow pants. The squeaky little voice had just become a roar and was yelling him to shut up and let her do it. Meg, on her side, had an amused expression.

“Oh, is that a challenge?” she asked. Her husky tone had changed to something harsher, something slightly threatening that made both Castiel and his little voice shut up. “Are you challenging me, Clarence?”

“N-No…”

“Do you want to see exactly _how_ dominant can I be while kneeling?” she kept saying. “You want to see if I can make you beg?”

She had a wicked grin on her face, and suddenly Castiel realized… it was a game. She was playing with him. It was all just an act for fun alone, and there was no reason for him to be nervous. She wasn’t going to tie him up and spank him all of the sudden.

Not unless he wanted, of course.

He changed the track of his thoughts back to Meg’s expecting face. “I… I really don’t think you can be that dominant…” he said, trying to sound, indeed, skeptical.

“Then I shall prove you wrong,” she affirmed, and turned to search for something on her nightstand’s drawer. “What have we here?” she muttered, showing a red condom to Castiel. “Your favorite flavor: strawberry,” she laughed.

Castiel intended to laugh as well, but Meg caressed the tip of his cock with her fingertips, and his laugh became a weak groan of pleasure.

“Keep your eyes on me,” she ordered him.

A shiver of arousal came down Castiel’s spine, and he found himself moaning, his heartbeat racing as Meg left a trail of light kisses on his inner thigh before taking him further and further into her mouth. He put a hand over her shoulder, just because he needed to cling onto something. Meg started bobbing her head up and down, deliberate but steadily, teasing him with her tongue, her eyes never parting his, the same glimmer of malice still on them.

“Meg…” he muttered, although all that came out was an inaudible huff. Meg continued to suck him, licking, going back and forth in an irregular rhythm designed to mystify him. She seemed to know exactly how to move, when to pause, how to manipulate all his nerves to drive him insane.

Castiel’s yearning escalated so fast and intense he thought he might come right then, but Meg wasn’t going to allow that. She stopped right when Castiel started to shout her name a little too loud, and to him, it was the sweetest of tortures.

“Meg, please…” he said, breathing heavily.

“What’s that, Clarence? You want me to finish you off?” she taunted him.

Castiel tried to utter a response, but he was far too agitated.

“I can’t hear you,” she told him, placing a single kiss on the tip of his penis.

“Yes,” Castiel manage to say. “Yes, please.”

“Are you begging me?” she mocked him.

“Yes, yes… I am,” he declared. “Please, Meg…”

Meg took him in just one more time, and it was enough. Castiel felt himself exploding, waves of pleasure running through his body, all the blood buzzing in his brain, making him dizzy. He collapsed on the bed, trying to catch his breath.

A few moments later, he opened his eyes. He hadn’t even realized Meg had left the room, until he saw her come back, still stunning and provocative in her lingerie. She smiled as she climbed on top of him.

“How dominant can I be, Clarence?” she gloated.

“A lot,” Castiel acknowledged, putting his hands over her hips. “I was wrong.”

“I like a man who can own up his mistakes,” she chuckled, kissing him on the forehead. Castiel sat down to hug her. He loved to have her sitting on his lap like that, he loved the way her hair look, all messy and disheveled around her face. And, oh, God, he loved the way her body pressed against his.

“You have to go to work?” he asked, suddenly concerned about the hour.

“Not for a couple of hours,” she told him. “Which is good,” she added, as she nibbled his ear. “’Cause I’m not done with you just yet.”

 

* * *

 

 

The woman on Meg’s player had stopped singing a while ago, and Castiel didn’t know at what point he had dozed off, but the alarm of Meg’s cell phone surprised him so much he practically jumped off the bed. Next to him, Meg let out a heavy sigh and turned around to stop it. She rubbed her face and look at him with semi-groggy eyes. 

“I don’t want to go,” she grumbled. “But Dean will kill me if I don’t show up. I’m sorry I have to kick you out like this…”

“It’s okay,” Castiel assured her. “I understand.”

They got up, and Castiel started to get dressed as Meg went into the bathroom to start the shower. When she returned, she was wearing a rather shabby blue bathrobe. Castiel couldn’t help but to laugh.

“That’s not the sexiest thing,” he commented, as she handed him his shirt and his trench coat.

“It may not be the sexiest, but it is the most comfortable,” she said, shrugging.

Castiel finished putting on his clothes and got up. Meg accompanied him to the door.

“So… same time next week?” she asked him.

“I would like that, yes,” Castiel said.

There was a moment of hesitation, in which he wondered whether it would be appropriate or not, whether ‘friends with benefits’ did such things… and then he decided he didn’t care. He put his arms around her and pulled her close to him for a kiss. Meg not only did not back down, but responded him with enthusiasm.

“I left a little something in your pocket,” she whispered in his ear. “A present for you to think of me, until we meet again. But don’t look at it until you’re alone, okay?”

Castiel promised her he wouldn’t, and with another kiss, he left.

 

* * *

 

 

Gabriel and Balthazar weren't home, as the post-it on the fridge informed him. Castiel was surprised they had gone partying so early, but at least they seemed to have worked out their differences. Well, it would be quiet night in for him, then. Maybe he could work on the goddamn cover art for Edlund. He opened a bottle of non-alcoholic beer (or ‘beer for pussies’ as Balthazar called it), and sat at the dining table with his laptop.

He stared at the demon’s eyes for five minutes before deciding there was not point. As usual, Carver was making a big deal about nothing, and as usual, he’d have to convince his editor there was nothing else that could be done, and the book go for printing with that cover despite Carver’s protests. He had been down that road a couple of times. Everybody at Halos had been down that road: Carver would change his designer after two or three covers that were ‘okay, but not quite right.’ After all the useless discussions, Castiel would actually be relieved when Carver moved on from him.

Lazily, he checked his e-mails (there was nothing but cute picture of a cat Charlie sent him), and then stared at the screen, vacillating. He had told Meg he would think about it, right? Well… maybe a little bit of information would help him decide.

Pulsing one key at the time, like the laptop would see what he was checking and give him a judgmental look much like Raphael’s, he typed the acronym, and waited for another second before hitting ‘Enter’.

A variety of pages unfolded for him. He started off with the technical ones, the ones that described all the different activities involved in BDSM in terms that were almost scientific, and gave statistic about the roles and the people practicing it. Apparently, Meg was a rare avis, as most women seemed to prefer the submissive role.

He then moved on to the pages run but people in the actual lifestyle. They were interviews, testimonies, and even instructions about how to perform this or that practice. There were tips, ideas, books recommended and despised, movies… Somehow, he ended up in a forum where people were concerting encounters and talking about how naughty they’ve been and how much they needed to be punished. He ran away from those pretty sure his computer was going to get a virus. He at least, felt a little unclean.

Three hours and a half later, he had a headache, and the letters on his screen were hopping confusingly as he tried to read about the different types of knots involved in the practices. The door opened, and Castiel, with a rush of panic flowing through his brain, shut all the pages at once.

Gabriel strutted in with a smirk of satisfaction on his face, wielding a bunch of white cardboard cards and making a little victory dance as Balthazar shut the door behind them.

“Why are you home so early?” Castiel looked at the clock in his laptop: it was barely midnight. “And what are those?” he added, as Gabriel wouldn’t quit waving the cards.

“ _These_ , little brother, are the palpable proof that I am still the sexiest, most desired player of the Abbot family,” Gabriel told him, putting the cards next to Castiel’s laptop so he could see them. “ _These_ are numbers of all the women that will be waiting for a call from _moi_.”

“Oh, yes, you certainly broke a few hearts tonight,” Balthazar said, rolling his eyes, although he was smiling as well.

“You’re just jealous because I was the one who got more numbers,” Gabriel stated. “You should have seen me, Cas, I was on fire! Every time that bell rang, I knew there was a new gorgeous lonely lady waiting for me to sit in front of them and be the joy of their night!”

“Bell?” Castiel repeated, and then he realized their brothers were dressed fancier than they would on a common party night. “Oh, you went speed dating!”

“Indeed,” Balthazar said. “A very exclusive event for very well connected people from ages thirty to thirty five.”

“I thought you didn’t want to date women your age,” Castiel told Gabriel.

“Ah, that was last’s year Gabriel!” his brother said, recovering the cards. “This year’s Gabriel came to a realization: I am not seventeen anymore! Why should I be trying to date girls when I can date _women_? You know what I mean?”

“I think so,” Castiel looked at Balthazar. “Isn’t that what you…?”

“Tell us about your day, Cas,” Balthazar cut him. “Did you see Meg?”

Castiel blushed, but couldn’t help grinning.

“I did.”

“You see? Another difference! Last year’s Gabriel would have envied you,” Gabriel pointed. “This year’s Gabriel is just gonna take his cards and note that he is going to get laid so much more than you, with some really pretty age-appropriate ladies!”

And with a last wink, Gabriel disappeared inside his room.

“I kinda like this year’s Gabriel,” Castiel commented.

“Yes… let’s see how much he lasts,” Balthazar said, and picked up Castiel’s trench coat from the sofa. “And Cas, how many times I have to tell you to keep your things in your room?”

“It’s not a room, it’s more like a glorified closet,” Castiel complained.

“Well, you know the solution to that: get your own place!” Balthazar said. “And what is this thing you got in your pocket…?”

Before Castiel could react, Balthazar had already reached for it.

“Nice one, bro,” Balthazar said, barely suffocating the laughter, as he held Meg’s red lace panties high.

How many times a day was it healthy for man to wish he could just disappear? Because Castiel was pretty sure he was reaching the limit.


	6. Chapter 6

The two following days weren’t nearly as good as Friday. Castiel spent most of Saturday morning arguing with his ex wife on the phone because she decided to back down from their previous agreement.

“You cannot do that!” Castiel protested. “You said I could take her for lunch!”

“Yes, well… circumstances change, Castiel,” said Amelia, inflexible.

“What circumstances?” Castiel asked, somewhere between irritated and desperate.

“We’ve been invited for lunch elsewhere,” Amelia explained, coldly.

“And can’t you postpone it?” Castiel found himself begging. “I had everything planned…”

“No, we can’t postpone it,” Amelia said. “I’m sorry, Castiel,” she added, but she didn’t sound sorry at all. “Maybe next week.”

Castiel predicted she was about to hang up, so he attempted a last ditch effort.

“Can I talk to her? Please?”

There was a long silence, and Castiel was pretty sure she was going to deny him even that, but then…

“Daddy?”

A rush of joy went through Castiel’s head, and he could do nothing but to smile in relief.

“Hey, there, princess,” he said. “How you’ve been?”

“I’m fine, daddy! Mrs. Lanny taught me how to write my name yesterday!” Claire told him, excited.

“Oh, that’s great,” Castiel cheered. “Soon you’ll be reading the bedtime stories with me."

“Yeas, please,” his daughter said. “Mommy means well, but she just doesn’t get the voices right.”

Castiel couldn’t help but to let out a laugh. “I’m sorry we can’t go for lunch today, sweetie.” 

“Me too,” Claire said, sadly. “Why can’t I go visit you, Daddy?”

“Well… because I’m still looking for a castle, like I told you,” he explained. “A big, beautiful castle for my princess.”

Of course, he couldn’t do that if Amelia kept sucking all the money from his salary, but he would not be the one to start bashing his daughter’s mother.

“What’s wrong with Uncle Gabe and Uncle Balt’s apartment?” Claire asked, and Castiel laughed again.

“It’s just too tiny, baby.”

“I can sleep anywhere, I’m small!” Claire argued.

“I promise you, it won’t be much longer,” he said, and knew he was lying. “I miss you, princess.”

“I miss you too, Daddy,” Claire sighed.

Something inside Castiel’s chest was burning. He muttered a rushed goodbye, and then spent ten good minutes fighting the tears; and the rest of the weekend feeling thoroughly miserable.

 

* * *

 

 

His week wasn’t any better. Carver Edlund was apparently trying to establish a new record for how mad he could drive Castiel: the eyes were okay now, but the wings of the demon just weren’t right. No, the wings were fine; it was the font of the title that annoyed him. Or his name wasn’t big enough. Or he just didn’t see how it reflected the spirit of the book. Or perhaps... 

“Perhaps we should throw it away and start from scratch,” Castiel said, and regretted it immediately when he saw Carver’s face lighten up.

“Yes! Can we do that?”

“No, Carver, we can’t!” Castiel said, exasperated. “The book has a release date set!”

Carver looked at him like Castiel had just stolen his candy.

“You explain it to him,” Castiel pleaded, turning to the editor, who, as usual, was typing on her phone without paying any attention to them. She stopped, and ogled at Castiel, then at Carver, like she was lost in deep thought.

“Well, it is true everything is almost ready,” she admitted. “But if Carver is not happy with it…”

“I am not,” Carver said.

“And we all know how you get blocked when things just aren’t the way you want,” the editor continued. “If there is no other choice… I guess we could delay the release date…”

“For how long?” Castiel asked, horrified.

“A couple of months, maybe,” the editor said. Carver practically jumped of his chair.

“Thank you!” he said, hugging his editor. “Thank you, thank you! That should be enough to get everything right!”

“No, wait!” Castiel tried to say, desperate. “What about your fans? I’m sure they will be disappointed…”

“Not if I deliver an even better book in the end,” Carver said. His eyes were gleaming madly. “And now that I have extra time, I might perfect my manuscript even further! I was never truly happy about the way things turn out on chapter twelve…”

“But…” Castiel protested, weakly.

“Oh, and I can rewrite the ending! I can leave a cliffhanger that will tie this book with the next one!” Carver was now walking around the office like a maniac, but then he stopped suddenly. “I have to go home now! I must write! All this ideas, flowing through my head… I need to put them into paper!”

“Why, of course you do, Carver.” The editor stood up and grabbed him by the arm. “That’s why we’re leaving right now.”

“Yes, yes,” Carver muttered. “I’ll go ahead. There’s a writing pad in the car. I have to… I must…” and still mumbling to himself, the writer flew towards the elevator, gesticulating frantically and ignoring the perplex stares of everybody in the office.

“Why did you do that?!” Castiel asked the editor.

“Well, he’s right. Chapter twelve does need re-writing,” she said. “But two weeks ago he was convinced he was done, so I had to find an excuse to get him to work again.”

“Yeah, but now we’ll have to deal with him even longer,” Castiel pointed, irritated.

“Oh, you don’t really know what it’s like dealing with him,” the editor said, a frenzied look on her face. “You have no idea. And you should be thanking me too: he’s gonna be busy writing and should get off your back for a while. So I suggest you use that time to come up with an idea he likes, or this book is never going to see the light of day. And if it doesn’t, my bosses will think I am not doing my job and they’ll throw me to someone even worse than Carver.” She stopped, breathing heavily. “So you are going to create a freaking masterpiece for the cover art, am I being clear?!”

“Crystal clear,” said Castiel, cornered against his desk and not daring to move. The editor’s hysterical expression disappeared, replaced swiftly by her usual courteous smile.

“Good. I will see you soon, then, Chass,” she said, and then she left.

“All editors are failed writers,” Castiel reminded to himself. “And all writers are crazy…”

On top of Carver’s drama, it seemed like the rumor that Naomi could get fired had spread far and wide through the company. Castiel had always admired his immediate superior very much. She was strict and a bit of a workaholic, but only because she was an excellent designer and asked no less of those working for her. She responded directly to Zachariah, and ruled the artistic department with an iron fist in a silk glove. For as long as Castiel had been working on Halos, Naomi had kept things running smoothly, and he couldn’t imagine a reason for her to get fired. 

Nevertheless, the rumor didn’t seem completely unjustified: when he went to her office to report the turn of events on the cover art for Carver, Naomi looked absolutely appalled.

“What do you mean he was to re-think it?” she asked Castiel. Her voice, generally loud and demanding, had become almost a shriek.

“Well, Carver wants to write some new things, and…”

“No, no!” Naomi interrupted him. “We can’t have that, Castiel! That editorial has been one of our biggest clients for years, and if the release of a book gets delayed because of us…”

“Naomi, don’t worry,” Castiel told her. “Carver’s editor said it was okay.”

“Are you sure?” Naomi asked, still a bit shaken.

“Positive,” Castiel said. Naomi gave a heavy sigh, and rubbed her forehead. “Are you alright?” Castiel inquired.

“I’m fine,” Naomi said, cutting.

“I’ll go back to work, then,” said Castiel, and stood up to do exactly that

“I mean, I would be fine if all this pressure wasn’t weighing on me,” Naomi said, like she hadn’t heard Castiel at all. “They keep telling me, ‘Naomi, we need fresher ideas’, ‘Naomi, we need more commissions.’ It’s a nightmare.”

“I can imagine,” Castiel said, and tried to escape once again.

“I mean… it’s not like it’s my fault we have a hostile takeover at our door, right?” Naomi said.

“Are they going to sell Halos?” Castiel asked, shocked, and Naomi covered her mouth with her hands.

“I’ve talked too much,” she said. “Please, forget about it, Castiel.”

Castiel couldn’t forget about it, because on his way to the coffee machine, he got ambushed by Pamela.

“So how’s the she-dragon?” his co-worker asked him. “Still on the edge of getting a rifle and climbing a clock tower?”

“She is a little upset,” Castiel admitted. Pamela sneered, tucking her black hair behind her ears.

“I’m going to go home early, because she can start murdering people any minute now,” she told him. “That woman needs a cup of tea, and a massage.”

“I pity whoever has to give it to her,” Castiel said, and Pamela laughed again.

“Oh, Cas, we are living strange times,” she said. “Listen, I have to warn you… rumor has it Halos is not going to be Halos much longer.”

“I’ve heard,” Castiel said, taking his coffee and blowing over it.

“I’m not saying we are all going to lose our jobs,” Pamela continued. “But I’ll have my resume ready just in case. I have a sixth sense for these things, you know?”

Castiel nodded politely and started to walk away, but Pamela stopped him.

“I was thinking… maybe you and I can go grab a bite one day,” she said.

"Grab a bite?” Castiel repeated, confused. “You mean like on a…?”

“You are divorced now, aren’t you?” she asked. Castiel was surprised for a second, wondering if it was Pamela’s ‘sixth sense’ that informed her about it, but then he looked up and saw a tuft of orange hair disappearing around the corner.

“Charlie told you,” he deduced.

“Maybe,” Pamela avoided his gaze. “Maybe I saw it in my crystal ball.”

“Right,” Castiel smiled at her. “I’m sorry, I’m… seeing someone,” he excused himself.

“Pity,” Pamela said, clicking her tongue. “Well, if that doesn’t work out…”

“You’ll be the first I call,” Castiel promised her. Pamela gave him a thumb up, and turned around towards her desk.

When Castiel returned to his, he couldn’t help but to let out a giggle. Who would have thought?

 

* * *

 

 

All in all, Pamela’s invitation was truly the highest point of Castiel’s tiresome week, and by Friday, he was staring at the clock, counting the minutes until he could get out of there and go to Meg’s apartment. They had been exchanging occasional texts during the week, but he was itching to see her again, to kiss her, to… well, he was anxious about their meeting.

He was lucky: the traffic was light in Broadway Avenue, and miraculously, he found a parking space not too far away. Then he realized he had arrived five minutes too early. So he sat on his car. Waited. Tugged his clothes. Turned on the radio. Checked himself in the mirror. Turned off the radio. Waited a little more.

Three minutes later, he got out and starting walking towards Meg’s building. He was just about to reach the door, when he saw her coming around the corner, holding several paper bags, so he sprinted to her. Meg seemed amused to see him.

“You  _are_ a Swiss watch,” she teased him.

“Let me help you with that,” he offered.

“It’s okay, I got it…”

“Come on, let me,” Castiel insisted. Meg looked at him for a second; then passed him one of the bags, as they headed inside the building and to the elevator.

“You know, I figured out the other day why I like your trench coat so much,” she told him, as they waited to get to her floor.

“Did you?”

“Yes. It’s because it reminded me of the one Marlon Brando has in  _Last Tango in Paris,_ ” she said. “Ever seen it?”

“No, not really,” Castiel admitted.

“Oh, I have to show it to you,” she said, as they stepped into the corridor. “I’d like to recreate some of the scenes sometime.”

Castiel laughed as they walked towards the kitchen and he helped Meg put the groceries in their place.

“Marlon Brando, huh?” he asked.

“Hey, it’s a flattery,” Meg said. “You don’t get sexier than Brando. Want something to drink?”

“No, it’s okay,” Castiel said, and hoped he wouldn’t start stuttering right then. “I… actually want to ask you something, and I’d like to be sober to hear the answer.”

Meg raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

Castiel took some seconds to gather all his courage.

“I’d like to know more,” he said. “About… well…”

“About my sex lifestyle?” Meg finished for him, and Castiel nodded, thankful. Meg opened her arms in a welcoming gesture. “What would you like to know?”


	7. Chapter 7

It turned out Meg’s sexuality was a little bit more complicated than Castiel had thought.

“Bela?” he repeated, incredulous.

“Bela,” Meg nodded, not affected at all by Castiel’s shocked reaction.

Castiel took a second to let that sink in, as he drank a sip from his cup of coffee. They were sitting once more on Meg’s couch, and Castiel had just asked his first question about how she’d got introduced to BDSM.

“So you’re like… bisexual?” he asked. Meg shrugged.

“I don’t think so. I don’t like women in general. I liked Bela, and I’ve been with another girl after her, but mostly I prefer men,” she explained. “Does that bother you?”

“No, not at all,” Castiel said, honestly. “You just… took me by surprise. Please, tell me more.”

Meg had met Bela while she was still in college, studying acting. Bela was three years older than her; she was witty, ambitious, beautiful, and British.

“You know how everything sounds sexier when said in a heavy British accent?” Meg laughed. “Bela opened a whole new world of possibilities for me. Up until that point, it had been pretty simple: I liked boys, boys liked me, we fucked. I had had a couple of boyfriends, but nothing too serious, and nothing too… you know, I was pretty convinced I didn’t like sex. I just… never found anything especially exciting about it. Bela showed me otherwise.”

She didn’t say it, but Castiel got the impression she had fallen for Bela pretty hard, even though she told him they had reached a no-strings-attached agreement, much like the one she had with Castiel. Bela introduced Meg to the BDSM world, and it was a revelation.

“She was… so headstrong and determined,” Meg said. “You would have thought she was the one who wanted to do the tying, but in fact she’d rather be tied. We used to switch at first, but soon we realized we both like it more when I was on top.”

They had eventually moved in together. Bela came from money, so she paid for the rent and for all the “toys” they used. Meg, coming from a middle class family, allowed Bela to pamper her in a luxurious lifestyle, and pay no mind to it while she studied to get her bachelor degree.

“We were together for two years. It’s been my longest relationship to date,” she said. There was a nostalgic note in her voice. Castiel cleared his throat.

“So… why did it end?”

“I was about to graduate, and Bela wanted us to do something especial to celebrate,” she told him. Her voice became scornful while adding: “ _Someone_ especial.”

Bela had wanted to involve a common friend from the BDSM club they both were members. Meg was not thrilled about the idea. They had a big fight, and the relationship grew sour from then on.

“One day she just… walked in and announced she was returning to London,” Meg said, a bitter note on her voice. “She all but kicked me out of our apartment. She let me keep the toys, though.”

“Because you didn’t want to have a threesome?” Castiel asked, not knowing whether that was a good or a bad thing. “Why didn’t you?”

“We all approach BDSM differently,” Meg explained. “To Bela, it was all about pleasure; about how good she could feel. I had a deeper view. I still do.”

“What is that view?” Castiel asked, feeling they were getting closer to the subject he wanted to discuss.

“Well, to me, is about trust,” Meg told him. “Being a submissive, you give up control, you trust someone else, with your body, with your mind. And being a Dominant means to be worthy of that trust. To be able to take that person who trusts you to the next level, to figure out what gives them pleasure, what they need so they can trust you even further. It’s the ultimate expression of respect, of care. And when someone confides in me that way, I feel… empowered. I feel beautiful.” She paused, pensive. “And it just seemed tacky to throw a third wheel into that dynamic.”

Castiel, who had been lost in her words, suddenly realized she had stopped talking and was looking at him, expecting a response.

“So… how many…?”

“After Bela, I had three more subs,” she said. “It didn’t work as well with any of them. Men don’t really like submitting and Lilith (that was my other girlfriend)… let’s say she was not fit to participate in BDSM. You would think that in a city of eight million people, you could find a compatible sex partner, but…” she shrugged, and shook her head.

Castiel finished his coffee, and gathered his thoughts for a moment. “I’ve… I’ve been thinking,” he started. “I think I’d like to… try.”

Meg held her cup on the air, staring at Castiel in slight disbelief. “Really? I thought the idea freaked you.”

“It did,” Castiel nodded. “It does, actually. I’m freaked out right now, and I can’t believe I’m suggesting it. Then again, I never thought I’d find myself in a relationship like this.”

“Don’t do it just because I want to. You won’t enjoy it that way,” Meg warned him.

“I’m not,” Castiel said. “I’ve been reading about it, and I’ve found what you said… about the trust, and about giving up control.” He bit his lips, trying to find the proper words. “I want to see… if I can trust someone as wholeheartedly as you put it.”

Meg stayed quiet for a moment. Then, very slowly, she put down her cup, and looked at Castiel.

“Well… we might as well give it a shot,” she said, and grabbed Castiel’s hand to lead him into the bedroom.

 

* * *

 

 

“Take off your shirt,” Meg told him, as she looked for something in the closet. Castiel obeyed her, feeling a bit of nervousness building up inside him.

“We’re not going to…? I mean…” He wasn’t even sure what he was trying to ask, and completely lost his train of thought when he saw the rope Meg had in her hands.

“We’re gonna start with some light bondage,” she said. “Then we can escalate.”

“Right,” Castiel said. Suddenly, it was like all of his insides had been replaced with lead. This was for real: she was really going to tie him up, and he, a divorced thirty-one year old graphic designer whose idea of kinky sex was what he have been doing with Meg up to that point; was going to let her.

Meg seemed to notice his anxiety.

“If you’ve changed your mind…”

“No,” said Castiel, in a rush of courage. “No, no. Let’s do it.”

“Okay. Turn around,” she ordered. “Put your hands together… elbows pointing outwards,” she indicated. Castiel felt the rope biting his skin, and all the air escaped from his lungs. “This is a very basic knot,” she explained him in a soothing voice. “It’ll restrain you, but I can untie you very easily if you get uncomfortable.” She adjusted a little and asked: “Too tight?”

“It’s fine,” Castiel said. The position of his arms was a little painful, but nothing he couldn’t take.

“If you want us to stop, just said ‘Red’, okay?” Meg added.

“Yes,” Castiel said, and to his surprise, Meg spanked his ass.

“That is ‘Yes,  _Mistress_ ’”, she corrected him. Her tone of voice had become rougher, deeper. “That’s how you will always address me when we’re playing. Do you understand, Clarence?”

Castiel didn’t have to ask what his name was going to be. “Yes… Mistress.”

“Are you going to be a very good boy, Clarence?” she whispered in his ear. “Are you going to do everything I tell you?”

“Yes,” Castiel said, a shiver coming down his spine. “Yes, Mistress.”

Meg kissed him on the neck. “On your knees,” she told him, and she walked around to stand in front of him. Castiel looked up at her as she took off her clothes. “I have to admit, I’m not properly dressed for this,” she said, while removing her t-shirt. “But I’m afraid I didn’t have my costume ready…”

“You have a costume?” Castiel asked, in surprised. Meg leaned towards him and grabbed him by the cheeks.

“Did I give you permission to speak?” she asked him, slapping him softly.

“No,” Castiel lowered his eyes. “I’m sorry, Mistress.”

“Behave, Clarence,” she told him. “Or I will have to punish you.”

Castiel’s breathing accelerated. This was, by far, the most bizarre experience of his life. He would’ve never imagined a woman who would like to boss him around, he would’ve never imagined she would threaten him like that.

And it would never have occurred to him that he’d be aroused by it.

Meg had stripped from all her clothes now, except for her underwear.

“I guess I shouldn’t be so hard on you,” she said, pensively. “You are still learning, after all. Tell me, Clarence, what would you like to do? Would you like to kiss me?”

“Yes, Mistress,” Castiel said, his heart pounding faster in his chest.

“Would you, really?” Meg’s face split in a playful grin. “Have you ever kissed a woman like I want you to kiss me?”

Castiel stared at her, confused. “I’m… I’m not sure I understand…”

Meg sat on the bed, and spread her legs, displaying herself for him generously. Castiel felt a twitch on his lower stomach, and his cock grew harder still.

“No, Mistress. I have never kissed a woman like that,” he confessed, blushing.

“Well, there’s always a first time,” she said, and motioned him to get closer. Castiel crawled on his knees, hoping he wouldn’t fall on his face, and the movement did nothing but to increase the pressure in his pants. “Take them off for me, Clarence.”

“How… how, Mistress?” he asked.

“Use your imagination, dear,” Meg giggled. “I’m sure you’ll come up with something.”

Castiel let a few seconds go by, trying to get his head around what she was asking him to do. He had the feeling he was doing something immoral, forbidden, that he was somehow crossing a limit he didn’t know it was there before.

But it felt, oh, so right. He didn’t want to stop.

He crawled a little closer, and took the side of the panties with his teeth. Meg helped him out by lifting her body a little, but he had to slide them all the way down to her knees, his nose caressing the velvety skin of her legs, until he reached her feet and he could pull them off completely.

“Good boy,” Meg congratulated him. Her face had reddened, and she was panting just a bit. She wasn’t nearly as agitated as Castiel, though. “Now, put them on the floor and come here. Are you worried?”

“Yes, Mistress,” Castiel admitted. “I’m… afraid I’ll do it all wrong, and you won’t like it.”

“That’s alright,” she calmed him, sinking her fingers in his hair. “I will tell you if I don’t like, but you’ll have to do the same,” she put her free hand beneath his chin and made him look up. “Never be afraid to tell me when you don’t like something, okay?”

“Yes, Mistress,” Castiel said, although he was pretty sure nothing she ever did could dislike him.

She placed a peck on his nose, and put her legs over his shoulder. Castiel felt like he was hugging him, and of course… now he had to kiss her. He took a deep breath, and went for it.

He had been so preoccupied with how much would Meg enjoy it, he hadn’t had time to worry about how he would like it. And to his surprise, he found it… strangely pleasant. Enormously pleasant. Meg’s pussy felt smooth against his lips and sugary over his tongue. He hadn’t expected her to be so sweet, so… juicy. He felt naughty just thinking about it, but it was the truth, and he caught himself licking her eagerly, trying to take more and more of her in his mouth.

“Slow down,” she gasped, her fingers grabbing his hair. “Slow down a bit, Clarence.”

Castiel stopped altogether to gather his thought, and then started again, taking his time to deliberately taste her, suck her, and hear her moan every time he paused or retreated to pay attention to a different part of her. His arms were hurting, and his cock was craving for attention, but he ignored it, he ignored everything. All that mattered was to satisfy Meg, to get her to pull his hair even harder, to hear her calling him a “good boy.” Castiel didn’t really think there was anything more important in the world at that very moment.

He moved his head up a little, and gave a few timid licks to her clit before taking it in his mouth. Meg screamed, her nails digging Castiel’s scalp, her toes curling over his back, and Castiel couldn’t help but to feel a little bit of pride. He had made her climax, he had given his Mistress that orgasm. He was the reason her eyes were shining when he moved back and lift his head towards her.

“Was that alright, Mistress?” he couldn’t help but to ask. Meg smiled at him, gratified.

“That was… very good, indeed, Clarence,” she told him. “You had nothing to worry about, see? Come here,” she added as she moved to give him space on the bed. Castiel sat next to her, reclining his aching back against the pillows. “What would you like Mistress to do for you now?”

Castiel’s erection was wringed painfully on his jeans, so he didn’t have to think about it very hard.

“Could you… could you take off my pants, please, Mistress?” he pleaded. Meg kissed him right above his belly, and removed both his pants and his boxers.

“What do we say, Clarence?”

“Thank you, Mistress,” Castiel breathed. He never thought he would feel such relief just by being naked, but he was finding out a lot of new things under Meg’s tutelage.

Meg moved and put her arms around him, so he now had his head leaning against her breasts. “Tell me, Clarence… did you like my gift?”

Castiel flushed, remembering how embarrassed he had been when Balthazar found her panties, and how deep inside one of his drawers he had hidden them. But he wasn’t going to tell her that.

“Y-yes, Mistress,” he said. Meg was tracing her fingers over his chest, almost pensively.

“Did it make you think of me?” she asked. “Do you think of me when you’re all alone in your bed? Do you think of me when you’re bored in the shower?” She pinched his nipples playfully, and Castiel let out a suffocated groan. “Do you?”

“Yes, Mistress,” Castiel admitted, flushing even more. The now half-empty lip-gloss tube in his nightstand was proof of it.

“I’ll like you to show me,” she said. “Would you do that for me, Clarence?”

Her breath graced his face, and Castiel thought there was nothing he wouldn’t do for her.

“I’m going to untie you,” Meg told him. “And you’re going to show me what you do when you think of me.”

Castiel felt a rush of something that could only be describe as stage fright, but he recovered quickly. This had been the woman that had ridden him the same night they met; he was pretty sure there was nothing she hadn’t seen. Meg undid the knot quickly, and instructed Castiel to stretch his arms before massaging his shoulder blades.

“You are going to be all sore tomorrow,” she told him. “But it’s going to be the good kind of sore, isn’t it? It’s going to make you think of me.”

“Yes, Mistress,” Castiel sighed, enjoying her touch.

“And what are you going to do when you think of me, Clarence?”

Castiel’s fingers were trembling as he reached for his groin, and all of him shook when he placed them on the tip of his penis. Meg put her chin over his shoulder, still holding him very close to him.

“Do it,” she urged him. “I want to see you come.”

Castiel hesitated no longer. He began stroking himself, gently at first, but faster as his body reacted to Meg nibbling his ear, her taste still lingering in his mouth. Castiel fixed his eyes on her, while she alternately looked at his face, and his hand, jerking himself restlessly. It was something so special, so warm... Castiel realized he had never shared such an intimate action with anybody, not even his ex-wife. And there was Meg, encouraging him, teaching him new limits, new ways to experience pleasure, and there’s was nothing wrong or sordid or sinful about it…

With a moan, Castiel exploded in his own hand, and close his eyes, trying to catch his breath. He heard Meg laughing quietly.

“You’re such a beautiful sight, dear,” she told him, kissing him in the forehead. “I would watch you jerk off for hours… if you’d like that, of course.”

Castiel looked at her, concerned.

“I don’t think I can jerk off for hours,” he said, apologetically, and Meg laughed again.

“Alright. But, would you like us to play like this again?” she wanted to know. Castiel didn’t even have to think about it.

“Yes. I would love to.”


	8. Chapter 8

Anna was wearing tight jeans, high boots and a checkered jacket, and several guys had approached her on the street and inside the store with a wide range of excuses to engage in a conversation with her, but she had hastily hidden behind her brothers every time. Castiel didn’t really mind playing the human shield against unwanted suitors (he had been doing so since Anna was old enough to get unwanted suitors), but it was a bit distracting and annoying, since he was trying to make a very important decision.

“I mean it, guys, this is essential,” he said, holding the puzzles’ boxes for his brother and sister to see. “The Eiffel Tower or the Tower of Pissa?”

“Does it have to be a tower?” Alfie asked, holding a different box. “Why can’t it be Cinderella? Or Sleeping Beauty?”

“Claire outgrew Disney Princesses two years ago,” Castiel explained. “She’s into famous buildings now.”

“Does she really need a new puzzle, though?” Anna asked, moving around several other boxes. “What about the one you bought her for Christmas?”

"Amelia eventually let me give it to her,” Castiel sighed. “Claire wants a bigger puzzle now.”

"You spoil her,” Alfie pointed.

“I see her once every two weeks; that is, if Amelia is in the mood,” Castiel reminded him. “I’m allowed to spoil her.”

“Excuse me, miss,” a man in a suit walk over to Anna, and smiled at her, insinuating. “Could you tell me where the dolls are?”

“I don’t work here,” Anna said, coldly, and turned to Castiel. “How about the Empire State?”

“Oh, that’d be great!” Castiel grabbed the box with the picture of the building on the cover. “Claire loves the Empire State!”

“I could  _really_ use your help, miss,” the man said, his smile not flickering at all.

“You could  _really_ call a clerk, sir,” Anna said, and continued to look for puzzles.

The guy insisted still, undeterred. “Look, I know I seem like…”

“Like you’re trying to flirt with me while I’m looking for a present for my niece with the brother I see only every now and then because he’s serving overseas defending valiantly the lifestyle of this country?” Anna shot, her eyes becoming watery. “Why would you interrupt such a beautiful family moment?” she asked, in a trembling voice.

Alfie and Castiel exchanged looks. Alfie was short and skinny, while Castiel was taller, but still could not possibly pass for someone the Army would accept within its ranks. Yet, the man seemed to swallow that ridiculous excuse whole.

“Oh, God, I’m so sorry, I didn’t know!” he said, remorsefully. “I really didn’t mean to…”

“It’s okay,” Anna said, still with a quivering tone. “I mean, he has given so much already, what are just a few more precious minutes of the time with his baby sister, right?”

“I won’t disturb you anymore,” the man said, and offered his hand to Castiel. “You are a very brave man, sir,” he said, while shaking it firmly.

“Thank you,” Castiel managed to say. Behind the man’s back, Alfie looked like he was about to explode in a fit of maniacal laughter.

“Keep fighting the good fight,” the man added, and gave him an improvised military salute before walking away from them. As soon as he was out of ears reach, Alfie began laughing himself to tears.

“That was mean, Anna!” Castiel scolded her.

“Oh, come on. That was nothing compared to the time we pretended Alfie had lost an imaginary poodle in the park,” Anna said, shrugging.

“Oh, God, and then the guy spent half an hour helping us to look for it!” Alfie remembered, laughing even harder.

“What is it with men trying to hit on me while I go around minding my own business? When I want someone to flirt with me, trust me, they will know,” Anna declared.

Castiel thought about saying something about her clothes, but then Anna would tell him she dressed up for herself, and they would end up arguing endlessly about how he didn’t get women. So instead, Castiel bought the puzzle of the Empire State and proposed they all went for coffee.

“Okay, let’s discuss Raphael’s birthday party,” Anna said, once they were installed in a cozy little café, each one of them with a cup. “Kelly wants it to be a big surprise, so we need to keep Gabriel and Balthazar quiet about it.”

“You do know it doesn’t really matter, don’t you?” Castiel said. “Raphael will know we are up to something, but act surprised anyway.”

“I know,” Anna sighed. “But still, let’s pretend we are going to try, okay? Are you bringing Garth, by the way?” she asked Alfie.

“I am,” Alfie said, looking mildly amazed. “For some reason, he didn’t run away screaming after the Christmas dinner.”

“Really?” Anna asked, perplexed. “Alfie, this guy must really love you!”

“I know!” Alfie exclaimed. “You know how we always say that if a relationship survives Christmas dinner with the Abbots, then it’s meant to last? I’m thinking I might have to marry him.”

“Amelia always hated Christmas dinner,” Castiel contributed.

“I don’t wanna hear another world about Amelia,” Anna interrupted him. “How is Meg? Oh, wait,” she said, leaning her head as if she just had a big revelation. “I don’t know a thing about her, because you won’t tell me anything!”

“Why do you need him to tell you?” Alfie asked. “Just pay Balthazar or Gabriel to be your informants.”

“They won’t tell me anything either,” Anna clicked her tongue. “It’s so frustrating!”

Castiel hid behind his cup for a couple of seconds, and then spoke in the calmest tone he could manage: “That’s because there is nothing to tell, really.”

“It’s been over a month,” Anna calculated. “I’m not saying you should bring her to Raphael’s birthday party, I just want to know more about her than just her name.”

“Why do you care so much?” Castiel asked, beginning to feel a bit irritated.

“My soap opera is on hiatus, I need some sort of entertainment,” Anna shrugged.

Castiel rolled his eyes and said: “We’ve just… been seeing each other. It’s not that serious…”

“Have you slept with her?” Alfie asked point-blank.

Castiel almost choked on his tongue. “I don’t see why that is any of your business!”

“He hasn’t slept with her,” Anna concluded. “Have you even kissed her?”

“I have… kissed her,” Castiel said, and hoped he wasn’t blushing.

“Jesus, Cas, I know they say slow and steady wins the race, but you’re taking it to a whole new level,” Alfie said.

Castiel phone rang. It was a text from Meg:  _Hey, Clarence. Saw a trench coat at a shop window. It made think of you._

“You know how Michael says we overshare?” Castiel asked, and raised both index fingers to indicate that was exactly what their oldest brother meant. Anna and Alfie looked properly guilty.

“Sorry,” Alfie said. “It’s just… you were in a really bad shape after Amelia.”

The phone rang again. Another text:  _Specifically, it made me think how much I’d like to rip it to shreds from your skin._

Castiel bite his lip, uncomfortable, barely able to pay attention to what Anna was saying:

“I mean, it’s great you’re back on the horse. But we don’t want to see you hurt again.”

Castiel thought there was probably a clever pun to be made about the hurting thing, but realized he was going to need to give Alfie and Anna a little too much information for them to get it. He received a third text from Meg:  _Then I’ll tie you up to my bed and ride you until you beg me for mercy._

“Are you at least clear about what to expect of your relationship?” Alfie asked.

The cellphone rang yet again:  _So I’ll just put my panties into your mouth to shut you up._

“Trust me… Meg’s very vocal about what she wants,” Castiel said, crossing his legs as discreetly as he could.

 

* * *

 

 

Later that evening, Castiel received bad news. It seemed that a broken pipe and a wet wall falling apart had conspired to cause a low scale natural disaster on Meg’s apartment.

“Oh, God, are you okay?” Castiel asked when she told him on the phone.

“Other than getting my favorite pair of boots ruined, I’m unharmed,” Meg assured him. “But my place is in no condition to live in, much less fuck in.”

“Where are you staying?” Castiel asked, still concerned.

“I’m crashing on a friend’s couch, don’t worry about me,” Meg said. “Do you get what I’m telling you? We might not be able to meet this week.”

“Oh,” Castiel finally realized where she was getting at, and felt like someone just popped a balloon right in front of his face.

“I’m sorry,” Meg continued. “I really wanted to see you.”

“Me too,” Castiel admitted, and then it struck him: “We could meet here.”

“I’m not sure your brothers will be too happy about that idea,” Meg pointed.

“They’re going to be out on Friday afternoon,” he said. “They have to go buy presents for Raphael with Anna and Alfie,” he explained, and then remembered Meg didn’t know who those people were. “They are… my sister and my other brothers…”

“How many brothers do you have?” Meg asked, laughing quietly.

“I’m the fifth of seven,” Castiel said, a little awkward. “Anyway, we’ll have the place to ourselves for a couple of hours.”

There was a short silence on the other line. “A couple of hours, huh?” Meg said. “I can come up with something for us to do for a couple of hours…”

“We could…” Castiel swallowed, nervous as a school girl, and then started again. “We could do the riding thing…”

“Oh, I have a much better idea,” Meg said. Castiel could almost picture her eyes shining in excitement. “I’ll see you on Friday, then.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” Castiel said. Then, he added in a whisper: “Mistress…”

“That’s my Clarence,” Meg congratulated him before hanging up.

 

* * *

 

 

On Friday afternoon, though, Gabriel and Balthazar seemed to be doing everything in their power to annoy Castiel to no end.

“Didn’t I tell you? One of my clients is renting an apartment,” Balthazar told him, for what felt like the thousandth.

“Yes, yes you did,” Castiel reminded him, hoping that Anna and Alfie would arrive soon.

“Two bedrooms, completely furnished, not too far away from here…”

“Reasonable price, I could move within the week,” Castiel completed for him. “I’ve already told you, I need to think about it.”

“What’s there to think? You need a place, the guy’s got a place” Gabriel chimed in. “It’s like a match made in heaven.”

“I’ll think about it,” Castiel repeated, glancing anxiously at the clock.

“You do that,” Balthazar said, giving him the card with his client’s number. “And when you’re done, call him!”

“Why you guys want me to leave all of the sudden?” Castiel asked, leaving the card on the kitchen counter without even looking at it.

“It’s not all of the sudden, we’ve wanted you to leave since you got here,” Gabriel clarified.

“All soaked for walking miles under the rain, sobbing like a little girl,” Balthazar recalled. “ _’Just until I get back on my feet, you guys, you are the most awesome, brilliant and supportive brothers anyone can ask for, I would be nothing if it weren’t for you…’_ ”

“That’s not how it happened,” Castiel said, frowning.

“That’s how it happened when we told Michael about it,” Gabriel said.

“And it better be how it happened when you tell it too,” Balthazar added, in a mildly threatening voice. “Or else…”

The buzz from the intercom interrupted whatever it was that Balthazar was going to say, and the two oldest brothers stood up and started putting on their coats in a menacing silence.

“Or else what?” Castiel asked, confused. Gabriel just gave him a last burning look before he and Balthazar finally left.

Castiel waited two entire minutes to make sure they were gone, before starting running all through the place, trying to get everything tidy and perfect. He washed all the dishes, put fresh flowers in the vase his brothers insisted on keeping empty, and softened the cushions from the couch. By the time the intercom rang again, he had also dimmed the lights, checked that there was a good wine on the fridge, and brushed his teeth.

Meg arrived wearing a blue overcoat and high heel black boots, and carrying a brown bag she asked Castiel to leave in the table after greeting him with a light peck.

“You’re not allowed to peek in,” she warned him. “I’ve got a couple of surprises for you.”

“I’m anxious to see them,” Castiel said, turning his back on her for a minute to leave the heavy bag where she told him to. “Do you want something to…?”

Castiel never got to offer her the wine, basically because he absolutely forgot about everything for a couple of minutes.

Meg had removed her overcoat while he wasn’t looking. Underneath it, she was wearing a corset and a very short leather skirt, both matching her boots that, as Castiel could see now, covered her legs above her knees.

“We are going to have so much fun, Clarence” she said, grinning wickedly.


	9. Chapter 9

There are times when it is adequate to worry about the integrity of the furniture of the house you're living in, especially if said house it's not yours.

Castiel thought that being half naked, tied up and blindfolded on his brothers' couch might qualify as one of those times, but there were more pressing matters in his mind, and in his pants, to actually try to do it.

"You want to know something interesting about men?" Meg asked him in a playful tone of voice. "They are visual creatures. They trust their eyes more than any of their other senses. So when you take sight away from men, you leave them... vulnerable."

She whispered the last word right on Castiel's ear, and he jolted slightly. It was true, he felt vulnerable. He was completely in Meg's hand, he couldn't see what she was doing, and could not, for the life of him, predict what was going to happen. He was lightly aroused, and more than lightly scared. She had given him a safe word, of course, so he could just call the whole thing off, but... he wasn't sure he really wanted to.

"Are you hungry, Clarence?" Meg asked.

"A bit, Mistress," Castiel said, pretty certain there was some kind of underlying meaning to the question, like it had been with the "kiss" one.

"I got something for you," Meg teased him. Castiel heard her moving around the things she had been putting on the table, and then felt her sitting on his lap, so close the rings on her corset pressed against his chest. "Open up," she instructed.

Castiel opened his mouth, and Meg introduced something soft and sweet inside it. He savored it for a moment. He almost started laughing when he realized what they were.

"Strawberries?" he asked, amused.

"You like them, don't you?"

Castiel was tempted to explain the real reason he had become so fond of strawberries, but thought that might kill the mood. So instead, he said: "Yes, Mistress."

"Good, because I have a half a dozen of them here, just for you. Bite," she ordered, holding a second strawberry to his mouth, and Castiel did. "Good boy."

She continued to feed him strawberries, making remarks about how obedient he was, how good he was behaving and how she would reward him if he went on like that. All the time, she was shifting positions on Castiel's lap, rubbing her body against his so he could feel the leather, muttering in his ear or leaving soft kisses on his neck and his chin. Castiel's sense of impending danger started to disappear as he relaxed under her touch and her voice.

"How are your wrists?" she asked after he had swallowed the fifth strawberry.

"They're fine," he said. She hadn't tied him so tight this time. "But I don't think I'm ever going to see a strawberry the same way again."

"That is sort of the point," Meg giggled. "There is one last strawberry, Clarence. Do you want it?"

"Yes, Mistress. Very much," he said.

"Oh, but I want it too," Meg replied. Castiel couldn't see her, but he imagined she must have been pouting. "Will you let me have the last strawberry, Clarence?"

Castiel was about to say yes, that she could have whatever she wanted, she was the Mistress. But then, a daring idea dashed through his mind. What if...?

"I don't know, Mistress," he said. "I really, really want it."

There was a moment of astonished silence, and Castiel thought he might have done something wrong. But before he could take it back, Meg said: "Oh? So, you are not letting me have it, then?"

Her tone was harsh and Castiel shivered. The slight sense of fear returned, but he couldn't stop himself from saying: "I don't think so, Mistress."

"I'm shocked, Clarence," Meg said. "You're usually such a good boy. If you continue to behave this way, I might have to punish you."

"P-Punish me, Mistress?" Castiel repeated, swallowing noisily.

"I'll spank you," Meg warned him. "That's what happens to naughty boys, you know? They get spanked."

The way she said it made it sound more like she was talking about a special form of treat rather than a punishment. Castiel was at a crossroad with the idea: on one hand, having Meg spank him sounded like something humiliating, maybe even painful, and like everything else since they had started the relationship, he was insecure about it. On the other hand...

"Well, what do you say?" Meg asked him. "Are you going to be a good boy and let me have the strawberry?"

Castiel didn't answer, still trying to get his head around the possibility of being spanked.

"That's my good boy," Meg congratulated him. Castiel stopped thinking completely, and leaned his head forward.

Luckily, he calculated right, because it would have been fairly bad for the sexy foreplay if his mouth had ended anywhere else but where he meant it to end: on Meg's lips, where she was still holding the strawberry. Castiel bit it rapidly, stealing a considerable chunk of it right from her mouth, and tilted his head backwards, like he had seen the seals at the zoo did when they were trying to swallow a fish. He hadn't even finished it chewing it when he felt Meg's slap on his cheek.

It was just a light hit. She wasn't trying to hurt him, maybe just warn him, but it still left a stinging sensation on his face. All the blood on Castiel's body seemed to rush to his head at the same time. He felt mortified, like he had actually done something wrong.

"Clarence!" Meg scolded him, in disbelief. "Anyone would think you actually want me to punish you!"

"If that's what Mistress thinks is appropriate..." Castiel said, trying to sound as humble as he could. Meg got off of Castiel's lap, and he heard her footsteps surrounding the couch, until she stopped right behind him.

"You've misbehaved," she said, her breath grazing the back of Castiel's head. "You deserve to be punished. But since it's the first time you've disobeyed me, I might let it slide..."

Castiel understood. She was asking if he was sure about what he wanted her to do, and giving him the opportunity to back down. But he wasn't going to. It had become a matter of pride to see how far he could go... how far he could let her go.

"No, Mistress," he said. "You are right. I've been naughty and I... deserve it."

Meg put her chin over his shoulder. "Are you sure?" she asked. Her voice had changed again. It was just a subtle alteration in her tone, but Castiel picked the difference immediately. It wasn't Mistress who was asking. It was just Meg.

"I am," Castiel, not Clarence, replied.

"Have you ever been spanked before?" Meg wanted to know.

"No," he admitted. "But who knows? I like everything I do with you. I might like this too."

Meg remained silent for a moment. Then she kissed him in the neck, and said: "Alright." Her tone had gone back to Mistress’. "Get up, Clarence. You're going to get what you deserve."

Castiel obeyed. The sense of danger had grown enough for a sort of alarm to start ringing in his brain, as Meg unbuttoned his pants and left him standing completely naked on the carpet.

"Get on your hands and knees," she ordered after untying him. Coldly, as if she was really mad at him. The alarm grew louder, but Castiel knew there was really nothing to fear. She wasn't going to hurt him.

He had just reassured himself of that when he felt the heel of Meg's boot stabbing him in the back. He gasped, startled. Okay, maybe she was going to hurt him a little bit.

"Why do you have to be so naughty, Clarence?" she asked, like a disappointed teacher might ask her favorite student. "You're so good most of the time, why do you have to defy me? Are you sure you don't want Mistress to let this one go?"

Castiel took a deep breath. "No, Mistress. I deserve it. I want you to punish me."

"You asked for it," Meg said, in a threatening whisper.

The heel stopped torturing his back, but Castiel had little time to felt relieve, as a fraction of second later, the time it took an untied person to kneel, the palm of Meg's hand impacted right on Castiel's ass. Castiel suffocated a scream.

"I'm going to hit once for every strawberry you ate," she told him.

"It... it sounds fair, Mistress," Castiel agreed.

"Remember, you brought this on yourself," she said. "You can it make it stop anytime you want."

The second hit was even more painful that the first, as it landed right on the same spot than the first. Castiel's lungs emptied suddenly, and he was just trying to catch his breath, when the third hit came, on the other cheek this time.

"Mistress..." Castiel muttered.

"You want me to stop, Clarence?" she asked. "I'm not going to. You wanted this."

She was right. And he still did. He clenched his teeth, and prepared for the rest of his punishment. The fourth hit made him run out of air again.

"We're almost there, Clarence," she told him. Castiel nodded, trembling for the uncomfortable position, but didn't ask her to stop.

One more hit... and it was over. And just when Castiel was starting to feel relieved... Meg hit him once more, harder than before, and Castiel couldn't contain a groan of pain.

"Why did you that?" he asked, confused.

"I said one hit for every strawberry," she reminded him. "You ate six."

"I ate five!" Castiel argued, and then realized that wasn't entirely true. "Well, five and a half..."

"Oh… my mistake, then" she said, but Castiel didn't think like she was sorry at all. "Can you lie on your back?"

Castiel turned, happy to relieve the pressure of his body from his arms and legs… but not so much when all that pressure fell on his beaten ass. Meg removed the blindfold and gave him a little smile. To his surprise, Castiel found himself smiling back.

“Ouch,” he said jokingly, as she climbed on top of him, a condom in her hand.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Meg asked, while preparing him.

“I’m not sure if I liked it,” he confessed.

“Oh, you did,” she chuckled. “Or at least… he did,” she pointed. It was true: Castiel was rock hard, and so desperate for Meg to fuck him it was embarrassing.

And, he had to admit it, she was right. He had enjoyed it. Not so much the pain, but the anticipation, the rush of adrenaline that shook him with every hit...

Meg had wrapped herself around him with a moan, and he had barely even realized it.

“Oh, you sick bastard,” she sighed, moving to let him in even further. “You really did enjoy it.”

“And you,” Castiel said, when he noticed how wet she was. “This is how you get off? You’re sick too.”

“We’re both sick, dear,” she said, kissing him on the chest. “That’s why we do so well together.”

“I’m not sick,” Castiel said, in his defense. “This is all your influence.”

“Don’t try to blame this on me,” Meg laughed. “I bet you were just as sick before you found me… you just didn’t know it.”

Castiel tried to reflect about that, but having Meg guiding his hands towards her breast was way too distracting. All of his body was aching for her; he had been aching for her all afternoon, all week. Both of them where already so aroused he knew it wouldn’t last long, but he closed his eyes nonetheless, trying to concentrate in every single inch of his skin that was in contact with her, reveling on her touch, her voice muttering his name, the roughness of the leather under his hands…

Meg came first, leaning on him to bite his neck. Castiel felt an electric shock running all through his body, and clenched his hands over Meg’s hip as he came. Meg looked down at him, smiling, and she was probably going to make another funny remark when…

… Castiel heard the door opening.

“I can’t believe you forgot your… OH, MY GOD!” shouted a female voice.

“Dude!” exclaimed Gabriel. “That carpet’s new!”

Castiel got up as fast as he could, just to see Alfie and Gabriel, staring at him horrified, and Anna, with her back turned on him, and by the position of her arms, probably covering her face with her hands. Balthazar was the only one who seemed indifferent.

“Awkward,” he commented. Castiel thought ‘awkward’ didn’t even begin to describe it.


	10. Chapter 10

Fifteen minutes later, Castiel was having a full-on panic attack. He was sitting on his bed, with his head between his legs, trying by all means to control the nausea, and failing spectacularly.

“You want a glass of water?” Meg asked, for what felt like the thousandth time.

“Just… just…” Castiel stuttered, unsure at all of what exactly he wanted.

There was a knock on the door. “Where are we on the glass of water?” Alfie’s voice asked from outside.

“I don’t think he’ll be able to drink it,” Meg informed him.

“Do you want me to come in?” Alfie asked.

“NO!” Castiel shouted. The last thing he wanted right now was to see his youngest brother. The last thing he wanted to see anyone ever again, really. Hell, he was having problem facing Meg right now, and that was the woman that had him on all fours not half an hour ago.

“Tell him that if they stained the carpet, I will murder him with my on bear hands,” Gabriel said, loud enough for Castiel to hear him through the closed door.

“I don’t think that’s really helpful, Gabriel,” Alfie reproached him.

“But the carpet…!” Gabriel started protesting.

“Oh, for God’s sake,” Meg stood up, and before Castiel had time to panic even more, she opened the door, but not to let his brothers in. “Could you give us a moment, please?” she asked, as kindly as she had asked for directions on a street where she wasn’t wearing a leather corset.

“By all means,” said Balthazar, and proceeded to drag Gabriel and Alfie to the kitchen, where, presumably, Anna was having a panic attack on her own.

“Thank you,” she said, and closed the door again before turning to Castiel. He had stopped feeling like he was going to spill his guts out, only to end up dithering at the edge of sobbing like a small child. “Oh, come here,” Meg said, and wrapped her arms around him, letting him hide his face against her stomach. “It’s alright. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“They walked in on us having sex!” Castiel cried.

“Technically, we had already finished having sex…”

“They saw you dressed like that!” he said.

“So what? I do believe this is one of my best costumes,” Meg shrugged.

Castiel said something unintelligible, or maybe he just let out another cry. Either way, Meg started stroking his hair, trying to calm him down.

“Come on, it could have been worse,” she said.

“How?!” Castiel screamed.

“They could have walked in on us while I was spanking you.”

“Oh, God!” Castiel wanted to keep crying and feeling miserable, but the idea of their brothers finding them in mid-spanking was too much for him, so he began laughing hysterically.

“Oh, dear, you’ve lost your mind,” Meg commented, but a few seconds later, she was laughing as well, and the fact that she was laughing was hilarious to Castiel, who started laughing even louder, which made Meg laugh so hard she had to stop hugging him to sit on the bed, because her knees trembled with a every burst of laughter she let out.

It took them several minutes to pull themselves together, because every time they seemed to have stopped, they found another reason to begin laughing again. By the end of it, Castiel’s belly was hurting, he had his face wet with tears, and he was having trouble breathing normally. Meg wasn’t in much better shape, chuckling softly as she wiped the tears from her eyes.

“I hadn’t laughed like this in a while,” she confessed.

“Me neither,” Castiel admitted. “Oh, what am I going to do now?” he asked, but the question didn’t seem as dreadful as it used to.

“I don’t know you, but I’m going to introduce myself to them like the rational adult I am” Meg said, standing up and putting on her blue overcoat (Castiel was thankful that at least she had managed to retrieve that from the living room while they ran away to his room).

“Oh, yeah? What are you going to tell them?” Castiel asked. “‘Hi, I’m Meg. I’m your brother’s dominatrix.’”

He hoped that was going to be an excuse for another laughing session, but Meg remained serious. “You mean you haven’t told them about our agreement?”

“Well… Gabriel and Balthazar know,” Castiel admitted, blushing. “But Anna and Alfie…”

“Cas, are you ashamed to tell them?” Meg asked, and Castiel felt himself sinking a little bit.

“I just don’t want them to think…”

He didn’t finish the sentence, because he wasn’t sure there was a way to finish it without offending Meg. She put her hand on her waist. “You are not still married, are you?”

“What? No,” Castiel said. “No, the divorce is already final. Why?”

“Because that’s the only reason I can think for you to be ashamed of this,” she said.

Castiel didn’t know what to say, so instead, he finished buttoning his shirt to walk with Meg outside the room, and into the kitchen, where apparently, Anna had been gobbling down the glasses of water Castiel rejected.

“Hi, I’m Meg,” she said, valiantly walking towards Castiel’s siblings, with her hand stretched. There was an awkward pause, like everyone was expecting her to add something else, and Castiel prayed to God, she wouldn’t say the dominatrix bit. Alfie promptly came to their rescue.

“Hi, I’m Alfie,” he said, shaking her hand. “You know Gabriel and Balthazar…”

“Hello, hi,” the aforementioned greeted her.

“And this is our sister, Anna,” Alfie introduced her.

“Hello,” Meg said, confronting Anna’s killer stare with a brave smile. “You two don’t have angels’ names,” Meg observed.

“Oh, those are our middle names,” Alfie explained. “Our first names are rather ridiculous. All the good angels’ names had been taking by the time we arrived, right, sis?”

“Right,” Anna said, although it sounded more like the purred a microwave oven would emit just before its circuits started burning.

“I see,” Meg said. “I’m sorry about the…” she pointed towards the living room.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Alfie said, shaking his head like he could eliminate the memory by doing that.

“Well, I’ll be on my way,” Meg said, still smiling. “Good to meet you.”

“Good to meet you too!” Alfie replied as Castiel walked Meg to the door.

“I’ll see you next week?” Castiel asked, insecure. Personally, he wasn’t even sure he wouldn’t kill himself out of mortification later that night.

“Sure,” Meg said, and gave him a very light kiss on the lips.

After the door closed behind her, Castiel took a deep breath and returned to the kitchen, only to wish he had ran away after Meg when he had the chance: Anna was staring at him like she expected her eyes to turn into lasers and pulverize him. He gave her a pathetic attempt at a smile in return, not courageous at all.

“So… that was Meg,” he said, trying to sound carefree.

“She seemed nice,” Alfie commented.

“Nice?!” Anna exploded. “She was wearing a leather corset!”

“Classy, very classy,” Balthazar said, raising his thumb to Castiel.

“Not many girls can pull the leather corset, let me tell you,” Gabriel contributed.

“Oh, you two…!” Anna turned to them, her hands clutching the edge of the table like that was the only thing that prevented her from strangulating her brothers. “Why didn’t you tell me Castiel was seeing a…?”

“Woah, come on, Anna,” Alfie said. “You’ve only just met her. Don’t you think you’re being a bit harsh?”

“Oh, you mean with the tramp that was climbing on top of my brother?” Anna asked. “No, I’m not being harsh!”

“Last week you were happy Castiel had someone,” Alfie reminded her.

“Last week I didn’t know she was some sort of crazy dominatrix!” Anna exclaimed. Castiel swallowed loudly.

“Anna, dear, just because a girl wears a leather corset, it doesn’t mean she’s a dominatrix,” Balthazar intervened. “Right, Cas?”

Castiel hoped he was blushing. He hoped he could answer to that with a clever joke, or a fake laugh, or at least a half-assed lie without stammering. He hoped that his feet would stop being glued to the floor and allowed him to escape to his room to have another panic attack. He hoped in vain. He just stood there in silent embarrassment as the realization dawned on each of his siblings.

“Oh,” Alfie said.

“Oh, God!” Anna screamed, looking up at the ceiling like she expected God to actually descend from the skies and take her away from there.

“Interesting,” Balthazar said, the way someone would say ‘interesting’ while watching a documentary on Animal Planet.

“So what, she, like… ties you up and calls you dirty names?” Gabriel asked, confused.

“No, it’s not like that,” Castiel managed to say, although his tone suggested he was choking on his tongue. “It’s about trust, and respect, and… I swear it makes sense when Meg explains it,” he offered, crestfallen.

“I don’t wanna hear anymore!” Anna shouted, shaking her hands in disgust.

“I second that,” Alfie said, although he looked more shocked than disgusted.

“I can’t  _believe_ you, Cas!” Anna continued. “I would expect that kind of thing from these two” she said, pointing at Gabriel and Balthazar, “but you’re supposed to be the decent one!”

“T-T-There’s nothing indecent about it…” Castiel stuttered.

“I’m leaving!” Anna announced. “I’m just… I’m gonna go now.”

And she practically fled to the door. Alfie gave his brothers an apologetic shrug, and followed her, probably to stop her from jumping in front of a bus in an effort to erase the image of Castiel and Meg. As soon as the two of them were out of the picture, Castiel remembered he was standing on a very quaky pair of legs, and stumbled to the nearest chair.

“I’ll make coffee,” Balthazar decided. To him, coffee was the universal solution.

“You seem to be taking all this remarkably well,” Gabriel commented. “I mean, we have just discovered our little brother here is a sexual pervert!”

Castiel sank his head in his arms with a groan of despair, as Balthazar let out a derisive laugh.

“Gabe, I’ve been living with you for the last ten years,” he said, manipulating the coffee maker. “If I had a dollar for every time I’ve walked in on you performing an act of sexual perversion on the couch, the table or the carpet, I could have bought myself a small tropical island.” He started looking for the cups, and added: “That’s why we had to get a new carpet in first place.”

“Oh, yeah,” Gabriel giggled. “Good times.” Then he seemed to notice that he had a brother that was contemplating suicide, and asked politely: “How you holding up, Cas?”

“I have  _never_ been so humiliated in my life,” Castiel declared, with his face still buried in his arms.

“Now, that’s not true!” Gabriel tried to cheer him up. “Remember that time we said we gave you nonalcoholic beer, when in fact we gave you real beer?”

“No, that was Michael,” Balthazar corrected him, pouring the coffee. “That’s when he started saying we were pure evil incarnated.”

“He always had trouble letting go, huh?”

“Why did you come back for anyway?” Castiel asked, still trying to understand how he had ended in that situation.

“I forgot my wallet,” Gabriel said.

“No, you didn’t,” Castiel frowned. “I saw you pick it up from the table right before you left.”

Gabriel started searching his pockets, and sure enough, found the wallet in one of them. “How about that?” he asked, mildly surprised.

“Oh, dear Gabriel!” Balthazar exclaimed; a fake scandalized expression on his face. “Could you have possibly pretended you forgot your wallet in order to drag our innocent little sister to this den of perdition?”

“But Balthazar!” Gabriel said, imitating his brother’s tone. “Why would I do such a thing?”

“I don’t know! Maybe you thought that if Anna caught Castiel in the middle of his depravation, he would be so ashamed he’d get an apartment on his own and stop living off us rent-free!”

“You insult me, Balthazar!” Gabriel said, looking offended. “In order to do that, I would have had to know the exact time at which he would be giving into his basic instincts! And I could have only known that if, say, you have overheard Castiel talking to Meg on the phone and told me about it!”

“But I’m not capable of doing that!” Balthazar argued.

“Neither am I!” Gabriel said. “I’m horrified that would even suggest it!”

Castiel stared at them in utter disbelief.

“You’re joking,” he said, even though he obviously didn’t find the joke amusing. “You pulled out a convoluted plan to shame me into moving out?”

“No, we didn’t,” Balthazar said, with a smug smile.

“Of course we didn’t,” Gabriel said, with an identical smile. “That’s crazy, Castiel.”

Castiel closed his eyes for a moment, to gather what was left of his pride. “Michael is right,” he told them. “You  _are_ pure evil incarnated.”

“Now, that’s just rude!” Balthazar said, as Castiel stood up. “Where are you going?”

“Well, first, I’m going to find out where the heck I left my cell phone,” he said. “Then, I’m going to talk to the guy Balthazar suggested. And if that doesn’t turn out right, I’m going apartment hunting. As far away from here as I can. Maybe all the way to Los Angeles or something like that.”

Having said that, he left the kitchen. Balthazar and Gabriel managed to keep their straight faces for a couple of seconds, before solemnly making a toast with their cups of coffee and drinking to Castiel’s health.


	11. Chapter 11

“There you are!” Dean exclaimed when he saw Meg walk in the still empty Monster’s Den. “Come help me out with this.”

Meg grimaced. Dean occasionally got all bossy, ignoring the fact that Meg didn’t really need to work at the bar. She had a job as an acting teacher that she really liked, and she only waited tables at Dean’s bar as a personal favor to him, for the extra cash and, of course, for the chance of meeting lonely blue-eyed guys.

“I had the weirdest afternoon,” Meg commented, helping Dean get the beers out of their boxes. “I was having sex with this guy…”

“Why is it that all of your stories begin with ‘I was having sex’?” Dean laughed.

“Maybe because I have a much more interesting life than you,” Meg retorted, and Dean put his hands on his chest, indicating that she had hurt his feelings. “Anyway, we were on the living room carpet…”

“And let me guess: the wife walks in,” Dean deduced.

“No. You know I don’t do married guys,” Meg said, and Dean gave her a skeptic look. “Well, not anymore!”

“Okay, you got me,” Dean laughed. “Who walks in?”

“His three brothers, and his sister,” Meg said, and told him about the panic attack, the super awkward introduction, and how Anna had decided to hate her right then and there. “I mean, she was ready to jump at my throat. If I squinted, I could see the fumes coming out of her head.”

Dean chuckled. “So you didn’t try to charm your way out of it?”

“No, I just ran like hell,” Meg confessed, and Dean chuckled even more. “What was her problem, though? I was on top of her brother, not her boyfriend!”

“Were you wearing one of your costumes?” Dean asked.

“I don’t see what that has to do with anything,” Meg said, and Dean understood that indeed, she was.

“Me neither, but I like to imagine you in your costumes,” Dean shrugged.

“Oh, come on, Winchester,” Meg rolled her eyes and finished putting the beer in its place behind the counter. “You and I both know you can’t handle this.”

“That’s true,” Dean admitted, remember that disastrous time they had actually tried to hook up. “You still have those handcuffs?”

“Of course I do,” Meg stood up to look at the bar. “Don’t you think those walls are a bit empty?” she asked Dean.

“I can’t decide what to put on them,” Dean said, crossing his arms and analyzing the bar critically. “I was serious about the karaoke machine, but you wouldn’t believe how expensive those are. I’m just gonna go with the pool table instead, and save some money for decoration.”

“How about movie posters?” Meg suggested, and Dean gave her an eloquent smile. “No, really, think about it,” she insisted. “This is the Monsters’ Den, right? So, there should be monsters all over: horror movies posters! Freddy Krueger here, Dracula there, maybe Frankenstein…”

“That actually sounds kinda awesome,” Dean approved. “Now, if only my best friend was a total movie freak that could get me those posters…”

“I’ll pull some strings,” Meg promised. “You really are improving this place, you know?” she added.

“Yeah,” Dean muttered, looking at the tables and walls with fondness. “Uncle Bobby would’ve probably told me I’m in an ‘idjit’ for not getting a pool table the minute I inherit it,” he said, turning to look at the photograph that rested on the shelf behind the counter. It showed two bearded men with shotguns and wide smiles: John Winchester, Dean’s dad, and his best friend, Bobby Singer, previous owner of the Monsters’ Den.

Meg knew Bobby had loved Dean and his brother Sam like they were his own, and that he had been there for them when John left his wife, remarried, and later died. It only went to show exactly how much Bobby loved them, that he had left his precious, although rickety bar to them when he passed away the year before. Sam wanted to sell it, but Dean wouldn’t hear a word of it: he had decided he was bringing the Monsters’ Den back to life whatever the cost, and in Meg’s opinion, he was doing exactly that.

“He would’ve been proud of you,” she said, and she meant it. “Both of them would have been.”

“Even if I don’t have my life completely settled and I’m not getting married with a pretty blonde girl in three months?” Dean asked.

“Oh, don’t tell me Mr. Young Lawyer Fancy Pants is at it again,” Meg complained. “You already said you were going to be his best man, what else does he want?”

“Beats me. If he wanted a civilized best man, he should have asked Adam,” Dean sighed. “By the way, you’re invited to the wedding too.”

“No!” Meg screamed, frustrated.

“Yes, you are,” Dean notified her.

“Sam doesn’t even like me!”

“You are my plus one,” Dean explained. “Come on, you’re not letting me stranded with all of Jess’ functional, happy relatives!”

“Watch me,” Meg defied him, walking away from the counter.

“It’ll be fun!” Dean said. “We can tell the story about how we met and freak everybody out.”

“Dean, telling that we met at an Ozzy Osbourne concert and we decided to crash into the backstage to get him to sign your jacket it’s not going to freak anybody out,” Meg pointed.

“No, but then we tell them what  _you_ got Ozzy to sign!” Dean said, putting on the smile that had made more than one girl fall in his arms. He usually forgot Meg was immune to that smile.

“I’m not going with you,” she stated. “Wedding’s are depressing. The whole concept of marriage is depressing.”

“Not arguing with you there,” Dean agreed. “Paying a mortgage.”

“Christmas dinner with family,” Meg said.

“Sleeping with the same person every day until the day you die,” Dean pointed, horrified.

“Kids!” Meg shuddered at the thought. “Little filthy brats! Why would anyone want one of those?”

“Sam’s ruining his life,” Dean said, shaking his head. “And Mom always said he’s the smart one.”

 

“It’s so sad now I want to fuck,” Meg said, taking out her cell phone to text Castiel.

“I'm guessing I’m not invited?” Dean asked, jokingly.

“I’m not sure he’s your type, Dean,” Meg said, sending the text.

“Every guy you’ve had is my type, except the ones that are into  _your_ stuff,” Dean laughed. “Do I know him?”

“I suppose, you gave him my number,” Meg reminded him. Dean stared at her dumbstruck for a moment.

“What the… the short guy? Messy hair, blue eyes?” he asked, and Meg nodded. “Trench Coat guy? Really? You’re still seeing him? He’s into  _your_ stuff?”

"Apparently so,” Meg said, raising her eyebrows. “Big time.”

Dean whistled in shock. “It’s always the quiet ones, huh?”

 

* * *

 

 

Dean was right about something: it was always the quiet ones. Meg had found out that the ones who were cocky or bigmouthed about their sex lives, the ones who went around proclaiming to the world they would fuck whatever came their way, like Dean himself for example, didn’t usually coincide with the ones who were willing to experiment, to challenge their limits, to try new things.

And of course, the people that had been already in BDSM for a while, like Bela, were discreet about it. Not because it was shameful, but out of a sense of belonging, of jealous secrecy. Like if they announced out loud what they did, it’d be taken away and corrupted by an uncomprehending world.

“First rule about the BDSM club: don’t talk about the BDSM club,” Bela had told her once, laughing. She had an adorable laugh.

But then again, there were many things Meg had adored about Bela: her arrogant confidence, her sophisticated poise, her silent despise for the people that make her waste her time. No one in the world would suspect she needed to be put on a collar and whipped mercilessly to get off.

But in the end, Meg had fallen in love with her for the things she was outside the bedroom. And those same things were the ones that broke her heart in the end.

Meg shook her head. She didn’t want to think about Bela. She hadn’t finished tiding up the apartment, and Castiel would be coming around any minute now.

“My Swiss clock,” she muttered to herself with a smile.

They had been exchanging spicy texts all week, but it was the first time they would be meeting again after the catastrophic previous Friday. Well, Meg admitted, it’d only been catastrophic towards the ending; the rest of it was outstanding. It was always outstanding with Castiel. He was so different from any other lover or sub she’d had. So inexperienced, so eager to please her…

The intercom rang, and Meg hurried to open the building door. She gave herself one final look in the mirror, made sure everything she was going to use was ready, and sat on the couch with her legs crossed.

“It’s open,” she said, when she heard Castiel knocked.

The look on his face when he walked in was delicious.

“You like it?” she asked. She was wearing one of her favorite costumes: a very short blue dress that wrapped around her body very tightly with a sheriff star on the side, a blue police cap to match, and her second favorite pair of high heel boots.

Castiel closed the door behind him, and left the bag of whatever he had brought on the coffee table. He never showed up empty-handed. He was such a gentleman.

“It’s a… police costume,” Castiel said, swallowing lightly. Meg caught his eyes on her cleavage and smiled.

“Oh, you’re very observant Mr. Abbot. Why don’t you sit?” she asked, pointing at the chair she had stationed in front of the couch. He obeyed. She loved it when he obeyed right away. “I have thousands of costumes,” Meg told him. “I love role playing. Do you like this one? I can change. I could be a teacher, a nurse...”

“No, you… you look really good in that one,” Castiel said, nervous. “I mean, I really like it…”

“You’re still bad at sexy talking,” Meg cut him off, with a laugh. “We are gonna have to work on that.”

Castiel loosened his tie a little. “Yes, Mistress,” he said.

“Oh, I’m not Mistress, Mr. Abbot,” she told him. “Today, I’m the officer who arrested you.”

“Am I under arrest?” Castiel asked, a bit confused.

“Yes. And you are in a lot of trouble,” Meg said. “So if you want to stop this interrogatory at any given time, you just need to say the word ‘red’, are we clear?”

“Yes, very clear,” Castiel said. And there it was: the glint in his eyes that indicated he had finally gotten a hold of what they were doing. “But I won’t use it. I have nothing to hide, officer.”

“Oh, I believe you do,” Meg said, reclining towards him to give him an even broader view of her cleavage. “And I must warn you: I will use any means to get the truth out of you.”

 

* * *

 

 

If it were up to Meg, the standard procedure for interrogatories would all include an aggressive strip search that ended with the “criminal” naked, handcuffed and tied up to a chair. Of course, she wasn’t very sure about how good that would work, if the criminals in question enjoyed themselves as much as Castiel was.

“Are you going to tell me where you hid the diamond, Mr. Abbot?” she asked. They had settled that he was playing a jewelry thief, because white collar criminals were the hottest type. At least in Meg’s mind.

“I’m an innocent man, officer,” Castiel tried to sound indignant, but Meg reckoned it was a hard goal to achieve when someone was literally grabbing him by the balls.

“Why do you keep lying to me?” Meg squeezed, and was rewarded with a groan that was half pleasure, half pain. “I will continue, Mr. Abbot, unless you tell me the truth.”

“I… I know… nothing,” Castiel gasped.

Meg squeezed even harder, and he swore under his breath. He had done that a few times, he had screamed, he had moaned, he had tried to sweeten her, he had stayed in his role almost without breaking character, and he also said a lot of incoherent things. The only word he hadn’t said was ‘red’, and Meg was thankful for that, because she couldn’t remember when was the last time she’d had so much fun.

“Well, this is going nowhere,” Meg sighed. “It’s obvious, Mr. Abbot, that you’re mocking me,” reflexively, she picked up the flogger she had left over the table. “Maybe I should appeal to more drastic methods…”

Castiel held his breathe (in fact, he stopped breathing all together) while she turned around to him, waving the flogger menacingly. Meg recognized the look on his face. It was the same he had every time she suggested (or ordered) something he hadn’t done before: part curiosity, part excitement, and just a tiny bit of fear. It was one of the things she liked the most about Castiel: he could behave like a good trained slave that had been doing that for ages, and still manage to look all naïve. It drove her mad. It made her want to hump his brains out, to fuck him so hard he begged her to stop.

Meg had the entire scenario planned. She had a bunch of toys she was going to use, she was going to push Castiel’s buttons very slowly, and she was going to tease him beyond what was reasonably sane. But the moment he casted that look on her, she knew she couldn’t do it. She wanted him right then, right there. She would have to push his buttons some other day.

“Oh, I don’t need this to make you suffer, Mr. Abbot,” she said, putting the flogger aside. “I have other ways to torture you.”

Did she ever. Slowly, very slowly, she pulled down the zipper of the dress. She was wearing nothing beneath it, of course. She loved this part. The part where Castiel couldn’t keep his eyes fix in one point, where he wanted to take her in all at once but couldn’t. For those few moments, Meg was the center of his whole universe. And there was nothing that made her feel more beautiful.

“You’d like to touch me, don’t you, Mr. Abbot?” she asked, mischievously. Castiel didn’t answer. As usual, he seemed to have forgotten how to speak. “ _Quid pro quo._ You did it for me, now I’ll do it for you.”

“You…” Castiel began to say, but Meg just put a finger on her lips, instructing him to keep quiet.

She took a few steps back, just enough to make sure Castiel could enjoy the show, and began feeling her breasts, closing her eyes to focus only on the warm sensation of her own finger over her skin. “I’ve been so lonely, Mr. Abbot,” she said, lowering her tone from an authoritarian voice to a raspy rumor. “So lonely and bored with this life of always respecting the law…”

Castiel gasped for air, and didn’t manage to find an answer. It didn’t matter. Meg was inspired. “If only I found a man that would take me far away from here,” she sighed, as her fingers slid down to her stomach and onto her pussy. “An adventurous, dangerous, handsome man like yourself…” she moaned as she parted her legs to play with her clit.

“It’s… it’s a trick…” Castiel stuttered, finally. “A trick to get me to tell you…”

“Maybe,” Meg admitted. “Don’t think I hadn’t noticed how you look at me, Mr. Abbot. You want me. And you can have me,” she added, with a soft moan that was full of promises. “We can run away together… you can sell the diamond, and live like a king… and I can be your queen,” she said, putting a finger inside her slit. It was not nearly as satisfactory as having Castiel in there, but it wouldn’t take long for him to cave in. He was biting his lips in absolute frustration.

“How… how can I trust you?” he asked, and Meg guessed she had underestimated him.

“Well, you can’t, Mr. Abbot,” she admitted, and leaned towards him to whisper in his ear. “You’re just gonna have to.”

Castiel turned his head (about the only part he could move, really, that’s how good Meg was with knots), and kissed her on the shoulder. She moved away instantly.

“Not yet,” she told him. “First I need you to promise me… promise me you’ll take me with you,” Meg adopted a begging voice, and sat on his lap. She could feel his erection against her ass, and that only made her want to finger herself more furiously. “Promise me you’ll trust me… I can get you out… we can get the diamond together…”

Castiel resisted two more moans. “Alright,” he said, breathing heavily. “I’ll tell you… I’ll tell you everything.”

Meg thought she could reveal it was all a plot to get him to confess and carry on with the game a little longer. But she was as desperate as him. She turned around to ride him, to let him fill her in, to wrap her arms around his neck, and make him kiss her neck, her shoulders, the top of her boobs. She pushed herself against his dick, picking up speed as her need grew. She heard the handcuffs’ chain tinkle against the chair, and realized Castiel was aching to touch her. He wanted her, as badly and frantically as she wanted him.

And for some reason, that realization made her arousal peaked. She clung onto him, burying her nails on his back. Castiel leaned his head back with a scream and let go. Meg felt the warm of his cum between her legs, through the condom, and that sent her right into her climax.

It was insane, she thought in the midst of her orgasm. Insane how her skin was set on fire when he looked at her. Insane how the very sight of him put her self-control to test. Insane that a guy as inexpert as him could follow her games almost instinctively.

Yes, she thought, smiling to herself, the quiet ones always took the cake.


	12. Chapter 12

“So you’re moving?” Meg asked from the bathroom, as Castiel got dressed in the room.

His wrists and ankles were slightly sore. Meg had offered to give him a massage to alleviate them, but that only ended up on them having cuddly sex on the bed. Not that he was complaining.

“Yes,” Castiel said. “Balthazar was right. The apartment is nice, I can afford the rent… it almost seems too good to be true.”

“Well, my mom always said that when something seems too good to be true, it probably is,” Meg said. She poked her head out to look at him. “You should double-check everything, and maybe call an exorcist in case somebody died there.”

“I will do so,” Castiel promised. “But what I’m saying is, I’ll probably be too busy to come over next Friday,” he explained. Meg looked disappointed.

“Really? Not even for just a while?”

“I’m afraid not,” Castiel sighed. He was as bothered by it as Meg was. “But there’s an upside… you can stay over now.”

Meg expression went completely blank for a few seconds.

“Stay over?” she repeated.

“Yes,” Castiel said, suddenly realizing that the suggestion was not his brightest idea. “I mean… if you want. Maybe some weekend, we can just…” his voice dropped to a whisper and then died.

“Friends with benefits don’t stay over, Cas,” Meg stated, matter-of-factly.

“Right. Sorry. I’m still not sure about the… rules, of all this,” Castiel apologized. “You obviously want to have your space… and I didn’t mean anything by it, just…” he stammered, as he started buttoning his shirt faster, completely messing it up. Meg stepped out of the bathroom, wearing her raggedy blue bathrobe, and helped him out with the buttons.

“It’s not that,” she said. “I just want it to be clear. We start doing the ‘stay over’ thing, and then maybe I leave a toothbrush at your place, and next thing you know, we’re living together,” she said, with a grimace. “I told you, I’m not looking for that kind of relationship.”

“Alright,” Castiel sighed, although relieved. “I’m sorry.”

“That’s okay,” she said, giving him a light kiss on the nose. “I’ll be more than happy to help you christen every room in your new apartment, though.”

“Christen…? Oh,” Castiel understood, and his eyebrows shot up. “That would be nice.”

“It would be extremely nice,” Meg agreed, knotting Castiel’s tie, and pulling him closer to her. “How about this Saturday?”

It took a few seconds for Castiel to process that, as he was thinking how much he would like to kiss her and get into bed with her again. “Saturday?” he repeated. “Oh, uhm… no, Saturday’s not good either.”

Meg frowned and let go of the tie. “Any particular reason?”

“It’s just… not,” Castiel said, clumsily. “I’ll still be putting everything in order, and it just won’t…”

“Ok,” Meg cut him off, a bit callously. “You call me, then.”

“Sure,” Castiel nodded. He gave her a rush kiss on the cheek, and then left Meg alone with her thoughts.

 

* * *

 

 

Castiel had lied, of course, and he was such a bad liar he was sure Meg had seen through him, but he had his reasons for doing so. By the next Friday evening, the apartment was in perfect living conditions, and for the very first time in his life, Castiel was absolutely alone in a place he could call his own.

It was a strange feeling. He had always shared a bedroom with one of his brothers, and he’d had a string of more or less functional roommates during college. Then, of course, he’d married Amelia, and then Claire had been born. Not that Castiel regretted any of those things, but while he was still going through all the necessary formalities of renting a place, the realization fell on him like a brick of walls: he had never lived by himself before.

So, that first night, when he sat on his new couch with a homemade dinner consisting on rice and vegetables on his new plates, and turned on the stereo to listen to Ella and Louis sing  _Can’t we Be Friends?_ , a sigh of content escaped his lips. There was no one to tell him to change his “grandpa music”, or to complain about his “rabbit food”, or to ask him to turn on the TV because there was a rerun of  _Dr. Sexy MD_ .

He thought he was going to be desperate to call somebody (maybe Alfie, or Anna, or Meg if her turn at the bar hadn’t started), to have someone to talk to or keep him company, he thought he would last two hours before running back to beg Gabriel and Balthazar to take him back because their company was better than no company at all. But instead, he just closed his eyes and let the sweet melody of Satchmo’s trumpet carry him away.

Oh, yes. He could definitely get used to that.

 

* * *

 

 

The following morning, Castiel was standing on the street, with his arms crossed, trying to retain some body heat against the chilly breeze of February. He had checked his clock at least four times, trying to remind himself not everybody was as punctual as him. He had his cell phone in the pocket of his jacket, almost waiting for it to ring and hear Amelia give him another crappy excuse.

But Amelia wasn’t calling him. In fact, she was parking the car right in front of the building. The passenger’s door opened, and even before the car had stopped, a blonde little figure jumped out and ran towards Castiel screaming: “Daddy!”

“There’s my little princess!” Castiel smiled, and hugged Claire before lifting her in the air. “How are you?”

“I’m good, Daddy!” Claire exclaimed, hugging him back. “I missed you!”

“Oh, I missed you too!” Castiel answered, and kissed her on the cheek before putting her back on the ground, and turning to face Amelia. His ex wife greeted him coldly, and handed him Claire’s backpack.

“No junk food,” she instructed him, like Castiel had ever given Claire junk food. “Don’t let her stay up late. Remember I’ll come to pick her up at ten tomorrow morning.”

“That means she won’t be here until eleven,” Claire pointed, and Castiel had to suffocate a chuckle. Amelia didn’t seem to appreciate the joke.

“Don’t let her run around,” she continued. “And don’t go anywhere, it’s too cold and she might get sick.”

“Don’t worry,” Castiel sighed. “We’re just going to stay in to play puzzle wars and watch movies, right, princess?”

“Right,” Claire gave her mother a smile that was all teeth. Amelia still looked rather suspicious, but she leaned to kiss Claire goodbye and finally turned around to leave.

Castiel did his best to hide his relief, and when he held Claire’s hand to guide her inside the building, he was elated: he finally had a whole Saturday with his baby girl all to himself.

 

* * *

 

 

Well, that was his intention, anyway. After an early lunch, Claire was watching _Beauty and the Beast_ for the thousandth time, and Castiel was washing the dishes before joining her, when the doorbell rang.

“Do I open, Dad?” asked Claire.

“No!” Castiel answered, even though he was elbow deep in foam. “Wait until I get there.”

He hurriedly dried his hands, and the doorbell rang again, and then a third time. In the living room, Belle stopped singing, and Castiel heard Claire getting off the couch.

“Claire, don’t open!” Castiel warned her, throwing the towel to run to the door.

He got there too late. Claire had already reached the latch, and standing in the hall with a bottle of wine and a paper bag, there was the last person Castiel had expected to see: Meg.

“Hello,” Claire said.

“Oh… uhm, hi,” Meg said, looking utterly confused. Castiel stumbled towards them as fast as he could.

“Meg, what are you…?” he started, and then realized he had Claire enormous blue eyes staring at him.

“Who is this, Daddy?” his daughter asked.

“Well, princess… this is Meg, she’s… a friend of your dad,” he introduced her, feeling all the blood of his body rushing to his head. “Meg, this is my daughter… Claire.”

“Claire,” Meg repeated, her yes shooting open wider that Castiel had ever seen them. “Your daughter… you have a daughter,” she said, like she was trying to process it.

“Nice to meet you, Meg,” Claire said, smiling and offering Meg her tiny hand.

“Nice to meet you too,” Meg said, juggling with the bag and the wine, before she could shake Claire’s hand. “I… I’m sorry, I didn’t…”

“Would you like to come in?” Claire said, and Castiel didn’t say anything because he was certain he was about to faint.

“Oh, I… I don’t… I mean, I shouldn’t…” Meg stuttered, nervously.

“P-princess,” Castiel found his voice again. “I’m pretty sure Meg has… things to do…”

“Don’t be silly, Daddy, she  _obviously_ came to visit you,” Claire affirmed, and Castiel couldn’t find any arguments against that logic. “Come on in, Meg,” Claire invited her. “We’re watching  _Beauty and the Beast_ .”

“Oh, that’s… that’s a really good movie, but I-I don’t want to interrupt you two,” Meg said. She was blushing, and visibly looking for a way out. Castiel wondered why the hell she hadn’t backed down when Anna was trying to eye-murder her, but now seemed terrified of a six-year-old.

“It’ll be fun!” Claire promised. “And then we can play puzzle wars!”

“I’ve… never heard of puzzle wars,” Meg admitted.

“We can teach you,” Claire said, not daunted at all, and then she turned to Castiel. “Please, Daddy, invite her in! You know puzzle wars are no fun without  _at least_ three people.”

Castiel and Meg exchanged looks, both thoroughly defeated.

“Okay,” Castiel sighed. “If Meg really has nothing else to do…”

“I…” Meg started, but couldn’t come up with an excuse fast enough, because when she realized it, Claire was pulling her in the living room and urging her to take off her jacket.

“This is the best part!” she was saying. “It’s when Belle’s dad first enters the castle!”

Castiel hid the wine and the bag away; in no doubt it contained things he didn’t want his daughter to see, and sat on the couch with Meg and Claire, who kept babbling on and on about the movie.

“There’s Mrs. Pott!” she exclaimed, when said talking kettle appeared. “She’s my favorite!”

“Princess…” Castiel started, concerned that his daughter’s nonstop chatter was going to wear Meg down.

“She’s my favorite too,” Meg said. Castiel looked at her, startled, and Claire gave her the biggest of her smiles.

“Really?”

“Yes,” Meg said, still a little out of her depth, but quickly recovering. “Did you know the lady who lent her voice to Mrs. Pott was in a movie called  _Bedknobs and Broomsticks_ ? It was my favorite when I was your age.”

“Oh, we should watch it someday!” Claire exclaimed, enthusiastically.

“Eh… sure. I think I still have the VHS,” Meg said, giving Castiel an awkward smile. “Can you even watch VHS anymore?”

“I have no idea,” Castiel said, returning her the smile.

After the movie was over, the girl brought her brand new Empire State jigsaw puzzle, and patiently explained the rules of puzzle wars to Meg: it was a game Castiel had invented to keep her entertained, and nobody played it better than Claire. Basically, they spread the pieces over the table, and then took turns to try to put the image together. The one who put more pieces in place, won. They played four rounds with four different puzzles, and the two adults ended up spectacularly losing all of them.

“You’ll do better next time,” Claire reassured an obviously frustrated Meg.

“Yeah,” Meg giggled, tense. “Next time.”

One of the advantages of puzzle wars was that it made time flew by, so by the moment Meg was trying to make another escape, it was dark outside and Claire convinced her to stay under the promise of the best hot cocoa she ever tasted, made, of course, by her Dad, which, for some reason, put a huge pressure on Castiel. He took a good while to prepare the cocoa, and when he came back, Meg was giving Claire a graphic explanation about how  _Beauty and the Beast_ was made with the pen and the notepad Castiel had placed next to the phone.

“So when you pass the pages really fast, like this,” Meg was saying, showing it to Claire, “it seems like they are drawings are moving.”

“Wow!” Claire exclaimed. “You do know a lot about movies, Meg!”

“Oh, just… just a bit,” Meg said, smiling humbly. Castiel cleared his throat, and presented the cocoa to them.

“Did you put cinnamon on it?” asked Claire, with an expression of mistrust.

“Are you insinuating I forgot the cinnamon?” Castiel asked, falsely offended.

Claire took a sip from her cup. “It’s good,” she approved.

“I put cinnamon on yours, too,” Castiel told Meg, handing her the cup.

“Thank you,” Meg said, with a beam.

“Can I ask you a question, Meg?” Claire said, suddenly very serious. Meg gave her a nod, while drinking her cocoa. “Are you going to marry my Dad?”

Castiel managed not to drop his cup, but not in time to prevent Meg from violently choking. She began coughing, covering her mouth with her hand while frantically gasping for air. Castiel rushed by her side, to give her slight slaps on the back and offer her a napkin.

“Sorry, so sorry,” Castiel said. “Are you alright?” he asked, and immediately realized it was a stupid question: Meg’s eyes were flooded with tears and her face was reddening.

“Bath… bathroom…” she panted.

“At the end of the hall,” Castiel indicated, helping her to her feet.

“Th-thanks…” Meg huffed, slipping away from Castiel’s hand and practically sprinted to lock herself away from them.

Castiel turned to Claire, who still looked like she was expecting an answer. “Oh, princess,” he sighed, trying not to sound annoyed. “You shouldn’t have asked that.”

“Why not?” Claire asked, seemingly confused. “Isn’t Meg your girlfriend?”

“No, she’s…” Castiel took a deep breath and sat next to his daughter. “What gave you that impression?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” Claire shrugged. “Just the way she smiles at you, and you look at her… it’s the way adults look at each other when they’re dating,” she explained, like it was something evident. Castiel sometimes forgot what a sharp observant his daughter was.

“Well, yes… Meg and I… are seeing each other,” he settled for the most neutral verb he could find. “But she is not my girlfriend.”

“You mean, not yet,” Claire pointed.

“Maybe,” Castiel conceded, cautiously. “We haven’t known each other long enough to find out.”

“I see,” Claire seemed to reflect upon that. “Well, I really hope she becomes your girlfriend. I like her.”

“Okay, but in the meantime, try not to ask that kind of questions,” Castiel sighed. “They… make Meg uncomfortable.”

“Alright,” Claire said, and to Castiel’s surprise, she stood up and walked into the hallway, where Meg was standing still looking absolutely baffled. “I’m sorry I made you uncomfortable, Meg,” Claire apologized, and gave her a hug.

“No problem,” Meg said, her voice a bit hoarse from all the coughing.

Castiel wondered in how much trouble he would be when Claire told Amelia about all that, and if it had been such a good idea to teach his daughter to be honest at all times.

 

* * *

 

 

Even though Meg seemed ready to run away from the apartment and never look back, Claire convinced her to stay until Castiel determined it was bed time. She sent Claire to put on her PJ’s, brush her teeth and chose a book to read that night. He knew the whole process would take at least twenty minutes, which was more than enough time to make some damage control with Meg. At least, that’s what he hoped.

Meg was waiting for him on the couch when he returned to the living room after showing Claire her room (she resolved it was going to need some major changes).

“Well…” he said, smiling gracelessly.

“Well… not the afternoon I had in mind,” Meg admitted. “You didn’t tell me you had a daughter.”

“You didn’t tell me you were coming,” Castiel pointed.

“Yeah, it was meant to be a surprise,” Meg explained, with a chuckle. “That’s how surprises work, you see.”

“Right. If it’s any consolation, I was very surprised,” Castiel offered. Then, he shook his head. “Look, I didn’t tell you about Claire because…”

“You don’t have to… I mean, she’s your kid,” Meg interrupted him. “You have your own motives for wanting some people to be in her life or not… especially if those people are ‘not your girlfriend’,” she added, drawing air quotes with her fingers.

“Sorry,” Castiel said, blushing again. “I’m so, so sorry about the whole…”

“It’s fine,” Meg assured him. “No, really, you managed to be honest with her without scarring her for life. That’s good parenting.”

“I try,” Castiel said, accepting the compliment with a half-smile.

“Of course, you can’t blame her for thinking that,” Meg added. “I mean, I did show up on a day like this…”

“What do you mean?” Castiel asked, mystified.

“What day is today, Cas?”

“Saturday,” Castiel said. Meg kept staring at him, like she was waiting for him to complete the answer. “It’s February…” Castiel made a horrified pause, and bury his head in his hands. “February 14 th .”

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” Meg laughed.

“I can’t believe it slipped my mind!” Castiel exclaimed, humiliated.

“That’s the reason I wanted to see you today,” Meg explained. “I just didn’t want to be alone…”

“Wait, is that why Amelia let Claire stay?” Castiel realized suddenly. “So she could spend the day with her boyfriend?”

“Duh, of course!” a horrified little voice interrupted them. “How could you forget, Daddy?”

They both turned to see Claire, standing next to the table in her Hello, Kitty pajamas and holding a fairy tales book almost as big as her. Meg let out another chortle.

“Okay, I should go home,” she said, standing up with her paper bag. “Goodnight, Claire,” she said.

“Bye, Meg!” Claire said, waving her hand.

Castiel walked Meg to the door. “I’m really, really…” he began, but Meg shut him up with a light kiss.

“See you next week,” she said, simply, and with that, she was gone.

Castiel closed the door, and turned to face his daughter, who was looking at him with a very serious expression.

“That looked like a girlfriend kiss to me,” she determined.


	13. Chapter 13

Castiel was starting to dread Mondays. For a while now, it seemed like every week that began was trying to be worse than the previous one.

For starters, Zachariah was extremely on edge, according to Charlie. The takeover of the company had gone from a rumor to a fact practically overnight, and everyone feared the day the announcement would be official.

“The Big Guy was practically throwing a fit on the phone,” Charlie told Castiel and Pamela during their coffee break on Tuesday. “Then I had to hear him nag about the British for five minutes straight.”

“Why the British?” asked Pamela, confused.

“Apparently, the company that’s trying to purchase Halos is British,” Charlie explained.

“Oh, awesome,” Pamela replied, rolling her eyes. “They’ll probably bring in their own people, and then we are all screwed.”

“They’re… not going to lay us all off, are they?” Castiel asked. He was thinking about the child support, and the rent, and the red phone bill he had received that morning. Charlie and Pamela exchanged worried looks.

“I’m telling you, we should all be ready to abandon ship,” Pamela concluded.

That seemed to be the general spirit in the artistic department, because during the week, not less than three graphic designers presented their two weeks’ notice, which obviously didn’t do much good for Naomi’s nerves.

“If you’re coming here to resign, I’ll fire you!” she threatened Castiel when she saw him walk into her office. Castiel didn’t bother to tell her that that didn’t make any sense.

“Uh… you told me to get back to you on the logo for the magazine?” he reminded her.

“Yes, that,” Naomi closed her eyes for a second. “Alright, let’s see…”

Castiel showed her the designs, but Naomi was distracted and barely paid any attention to him. After twenty awkward minutes in which Castiel had the impression he was talking to himself, Naomi informed him he would be taking three extra projects from the people that were leaving, as he was one of the most competent designers left. Castiel didn’t know it was possible to feel both insulted and flattered at the same time.

Of course, that meant that by Thursday, he was exhausted, and still hadn’t finished all the work he wanted to do before the weekend, so he would be working extra hours that day, and the following too. He ended up calling Meg, who didn’t sound too disappointed to hear it.

“Dean finally got his pool table,” she told him. “He’ll probably need me at the bar a little earlier.”

“Saturday, then?” Castiel asked.

“Saturday’s great,” Meg said.

Castiel was thankful he changed the day, because when he dragged himself back to his apartment, and let himself fall on the couch, thinking about how much he wanted to sleep for twelve hours straight, his phone rang. It was Amelia, and she was angry.

“What the hell were you thinking?!” she screamed at him, and Castiel could only passively sigh in response. He spent the next half hour listening to all the reasons he was irresponsible, and treacherous, and all around stupid for introducing Claire to his “girlfriend.”

“She’s not my girlfriend,” he tried to argue, but his head ached way too much to sound coherent.

“Oh, and that makes it so much better!” Amelia snapped. Castiel rubbed his temple, completely worn out.

“What do you want, Amelia?” he asked. “I have the right to move on with my life.”

“Yes, and I have the right to have a saying about who you introduce in our daughter’s life!” she shouted.

“Oh, she’s  _our_ daughter now?” Castiel said, starting to get mad. “Then, why did you ditch her to spend Valentine’s Day with someone else?”

There was a startled silence on the other side. When Amelia spoke again, her voice was filled to the brim with cold fury: “That’s not what happened. You don’t know what goes on between Alistair and me.”

“And you don’t know what goes on between Meg and me!” Castiel retorted. “But I would never put anybody before Claire, and you know it!”

“Are you saying that I put Alistair before her?”

“Well, you’ve already put him before our marriage.”

“It wasn’t like that!” Amelia argued.

“It doesn’t matter how it was,” Castiel interrupted her, because he had heard all those excuses before. “We’re not married anymore. If I don’t get to have a saying over your boyfriend and the time he spends with Claire, then you don’t get to have a saying over Meg either, and that’s it.”

“When did you become so mean, Castiel?” Amelia asked, horrified.

“When I found my wife in bed with someone else,” Castiel answered, bitterly, and hanged up the phone before taking it off the hook. He turned off his cell phone as well, and then swallowed half the aspirin’s bottle before sinking into bed.

 

* * *

 

 

He woke up around noon, still feeling tired, but at least the headache was gone. He checked his cell phone and found several missing calls from Amelia and Anna, and a text from Alfie reminding him that they had arranged a video conference to discuss the plans for Raphael’s birthday. Castiel groaned, made some coffee and opened the laptop to chat with his siblings.

“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty,” Gabriel teased him when Castiel’s window popped up.

“Are you alright?” Alfie asked, slightly worried. “You don’t look so hot.”

“I had a bad week,” Castiel complained. “Let’s make this quickly.”

“We’re almost done,” Anna said. She had been acting cold towards him since the incident with Meg. “Cas, I’m sorry, did you speak to Amelia?”

“Yes, she called me last night,” Castiel said. “How do you know?”

“She called me too, this morning,” Anna said. “She was very anxious. Is it true you introduced Claire to Meg?”

“Say what?” Alfie asked.

“Oh, not you too!” Castiel exclaimed, supremely fed up with the matter.

“What happened?” Balthazar’s voice asked from behind Gabriel’s window.

“Castiel introduced his Fifty Shades to our niece,” Gabriel explained, looking over his shoulder.

“I didn’t introduce them on purpose, it was a coincidence,” Castiel said. He wondered how the hell he ended up justifying his actions to everybody. “And besides, Meg hates those books, she says they’re inaccurate.”

“Cas, that is serious!” Anna interrupted him. “You can’t just let that woman in your daughter’s life!”

Castiel was going to said that Anna didn’t know Meg. That she had been spectacular, that Claire had loved her, that she was the only person he really wanted to see after the cluster fuck that his week had been, that Anna didn’t understand a thing about them. But all of that were extremely juvenile arguments, and also, would result in a quarrel he was in no conditions to have.

“Anna, with all due respect,” he said instead. “Who the hell asked for  _your_ opinion?”

Before Anna could reply, his cell phone rang, displaying Amelia’s number on the screen. Castiel let out a heavy moaned, muttered “talk to you later” to his siblings, and put the computer’s screen down before answering.

“What now, Amelia?”

“Daddy?” Claire’s voice came out from the other side.

“Princess!” Castiel’s tone shifted immediately. “What… what is it, why are calling me from Mom’s phone?”

“I borrowed it from her purse,” Claire admitted, sounding adorably guilty. “I just wanted to talk to you. Are you in trouble because I told Mom about Meg?”

“No!” Castiel lied immediately, and felt extremely shitty for doing so. “No, sweetheart, of course not. I’m not in trouble, it’s just… Mom and I have different opinions about Meg, that’s all.”

“How can Mom have an opinion about Meg if she doesn’t know her?” Claire said, and again, Castiel was disarmed against that overwhelming logic.

“It’s a long story,” Castiel said, knowing it sounded like a hypocrite excuse grown-ups made up when they couldn’t answer honestly. “But I promise you, I’m not in trouble, and you did nothing wrong.”

“Am I going to be allowed to see Meg again?” Claire asked. “She is really cool.”

“Well, your Mom and I are going to have to make an agreement on that,” Castiel said, wanting with all his might to hit his head against the wall repeatedly. “It’s okay, princess. You have nothing to worry about.”

“Okay, Daddy,” Claire said, but there was no way to know if she really meant it. “Bye, I love you.”

“I love you too,” Castiel said.

After they hanged up, he stayed on the couch for several minutes, staring into the void and trying to organize his thoughts. In fact, he stayed there until the intercom rang.

 

* * *

 

 

“Hello, handsome,” Meg greeted him with a kiss, that Castiel didn’t answer to as enthusiastically as usual. She noticed. Of course she noticed. “Is everything alright?” she asked.

“Yes, yes,” Castiel guaranteed her. “Don’t worry about it.”

Meg frowned. “You sure you’re up for this? We can just…”

“No, I really…” Castiel sighed deep, and force a smile. “I really need this right now.”

“Okay, then,” Meg smiled. “Go to your room, and take off your clothes. We’re doing something very special today.”

Castiel wanted to tell her that everything they did together was special, but considered that might be too sappy for Meg. So he just obeyed her silently. A few minutes later, Meg walked into the bedroom, wearing once again her leather corset and miniskirt combo. She had a long and thick strap of leather in her hands, not long enough to be a belt.

“It’s called a tawse,” she explained. “And it’s used to punish really bad boys.”

“Oh… oh,” Castiel muttered, an understanding expression on his face.

“Since you enjoyed the spanking so much the other day, I thought we should try it again,” Meg laughed. “Have you been a bad boy, Clarence?”

Castiel, as usual, was lost for words for a couple of seconds. “N-No, Mistress. I’ve been behaving very well,” he said in the end. There was no reason to rush the game, was it?

“Oh, I disagree,” Meg said, winking an eye. “I told you to get undress, and yet, you still have your jeans on. So that would be strike one. On your knees.”

Castiel kneeled, but then he realized he still hadn’t take off his pants, so he stood up back again to take them off.

“Did I give you permission to stand up?” Meg scorned him.

“N-No, Mistress, I just…”

“Strike two,” Meg sighed, looking disappointed. “You’re really earning that punishment, Clarence. Kneel. Now, come closer.”

Castiel crawled towards Meg, who signaled him to stop a few inches away from her. She leaned to blindfold him, then jerk his hair back and aggressively bit his lower lip. Castiel felt a rush of adrenaline fill his body, and groaned with pleasure. Yes. Finally something was working out after that hellish week.

“Do you remember the safe word, Clarence?” Meg asked him, and Castiel nodded. “Oh, I see you’re good for something at least. You’re disappointing me today.”

“I-I’m sorry, Mistress,” Castiel stuttered, thrown off balance by Meg’s hostility.

“How sorry are you?” she asked, disbelieving.

“I’m very, very sorry,” Castiel apologized.

“Show me,” Meg answered. “Kiss my boot.”

Castiel bent forwards, until his body was pressing against the rug, until his nose crashed on Meg’s instep. He inhaled the scent of leather, and placed a kiss on top of it. When he sat up, his heart was pounding loudly against his ribs, and his hands were sweaty. It took him a moment to recognize the feeling: he was scared. This wasn’t the playful, patient Mistress he had known this far. She was mad at him. She wanted him humiliated and servile, and Castiel wasn’t sure she wouldn’t go to any means to ensure that.

And just the thought of it made him feel slightly dizzy. He opened his mouth to apologize again, and a hard slap crossed his face.

“Were you going to say something?” she asked him, harshly.

“N-No…”

“No  _what_ ?” she snapped.

“No, Mistress,” Castiel said. His voice came out trembling and low.

“Good,” she said, and grabbed Castiel’s face by the cheeks. “Today, you are not going to speak if I don’t say so. You are not going to move if I don’t say so. And you’re not going to come if I don’t say so. Are we clear?”

Castiel swallowed loudly, the sweat on his palms increasing. “Yes, Mistress.”

“Stand up,” she ordered, and Castiel complied. He felt her fingers unbuttoning his jeans and her hand sliding inside his boxers, as the other pull the pants down around his ankles. Despite his fear (or maybe because of it), his cock was semi-erect, and getting harder as Meg stroke it. “Do you like that?” she asked, and squeezed his balls until he let out a moan. “Do you like it when I touch you?”

“Yes, Mistress…”

“Who is this for?” she asked. Her voice sounded like a growl on Castiel’s ear.

“For you… Mistress,” he breathed.

“That’s right, for me,” she said, and bit him on the neck. “All of it is for me. You are mine to do as I please, aren’t you, Clarence?”

Castiel’s dizziness increased. He meant to say something, but his knees started shivering, and almost without realizing, he stretched his hand to try to hold on to anything. But the only thing closer to him was Mistress, and she didn’t seem to like it. She hit Castiel’s hand to take it off her hip.

“That’s strike three for you,” she said, threateningly. “Down.”

Castiel complied, partly because he wasn’t sure how long he was able to keep standing. Meg instructed him to turn around to face the bed, and to put his hands at both sides of the bedpost. Castiel heard the cling of the handcuffs closing around his wrists, and found himself immobile with his back and his ass exposed. Meg was standing right behind him; Castiel could feel the warmth of his body over him.

“How many times should I hit you, Clarence?” she said, but she sounded like she was wondering rather than expecting an answer. “On a scale of one to ten, how bad do you think you’ve been?”

It took a little while for Castiel to understand what she was asking. The dizziness had degenerated in a buzz inside his ears. “I… I hadn’t been that bad, Mistress,” he said, and noticed his voice was still trembling. “Maybe a four?” he suggested. Even to him, it sounded like he was begging.

“I think you’ve been a nine,” Meg replied. Something grazed Castiel back: the tawse.

“No… not a nine,” Castiel replied, his voice almost a whimper. “Please, Mistress… a… a five…?”

“Seven,” Meg’s tone didn’t admit any protest. “It’s a nice number, seven. What do you think?”

Castiel couldn’t think much. The room seemed to be spinning beneath his knees, and he was thankful for the blindfold, because he was sure if he could see, everything would be blurry and even more vertiginous.

“If… if you see it fit, Mistress…” he managed to mumble. He was short of breath, and holding on to the bedpost like it was a life-saver amidst a stormy sea.

“Oh, I see it fit,” Meg said. Castiel imagined her smile, that wicked grin she gave him whenever he did something she liked. “Seven it is, then.”

She took a step back, and Castiel held his breath, waiting. The first hit fell right between his shoulder blades, and it sent a shiver of pain down Castiel’s back. He moaned, loudly, a sound that had a lot of despair in it.

“One,” Meg counted. She hit him again, lower this time, right in the middle of the back. Castiel hid his face on the bedspread, suffocating another cry. “No, no, no, Clarence,” Meg said, her fingers forcing him slowly to raise his head. “I want to hear you. That was two.”

The third hit went lower still, right across Castiel’s ass. The pain was worse, and Castiel felt like his head was about to explode. He supposed he must have screamed, but the buzzing in his ears had grown so much he couldn’t hear it. Tears were burning behind his eyelids, and he was gasping for air hysterically. He was about to pass out. He could feel it, the consciousness abandoning his brain, his limbs going numb…

Meg hit him again, right on the same spot, and the pain sent an adrenaline rush into his head. He had to stop her. He couldn’t take anymore.

“Four,” Meg counted, and Castiel imagined her raising the tawse again. His throat was dry, and his voice came out croaky when he shouted:

“Red!” Then, fearing she might not have heard him, he repeated, louder: “Please, no more! Red!”

The handcuffs tinkled, and just like that, his hands were free. Castiel let himself fall on his bottom, struggling for air, as the blindfold came out of his eyes, revealing Meg’s concerned face in front of him.

“Are you okay?” she asked, and her voice seemed to come from far away. “Castiel, can you hear me?”

Castiel didn’t even try to answer. The room was spinning even faster than before, so he buried his face in his hands, trying to make it stop. He was surprised to found his face was wet.

“Cas, look at me,” Meg begged, and gently moved his hands aside. “Are you okay? Talk to me, please…”

“I…” Castiel began to say, but a sudden shudder shook his chest, and for a second, Castiel thought he was choking. Then, when the shudder happened again, he noticed he was crying.

Meg helped him sat on the bed, but Castiel was barely aware of it until the moment he found himself burying his face on her shoulder, and sobbing uncontrollably.


	14. Chapter 14

“It’s called a landmine.”

Castiel opened his eyes.

After some very distressing twenty minutes, during which Meg remained by his side, with her arms wrapped around him, stroking his head and telling him everything was alright; he had managed to collect himself, and Meg insisted that he should lay down.

Castiel did so, and when he woke up fifteen minutes later, Meg had prepared him a warm bubble bath with smelling salts Castiel didn’t remember Alfie had given him as a gift. She’d gotten in the tub with him, and rubbed his back with a sponge; massaging his shoulders and talking to him about nothing in particular in a soothing voice until Castiel was relaxed enough to lean against her chest and close his eyes.

“A what?” he asked, confused.

“A landmine,” Meg repeated. “What happens when the sub breaks because of the stress. We call it a landmine.”

“Oh,” Castiel straighten up a bit and turn to see her face. “Does it… happen a lot?”

“Sometimes,” Meg explained. “Depends on the person, the circumstances…” She grimaced. “With Lilith, it was like a constant game of Minesweeper.”

“I see,” Castiel said. He closed his eyes again, looking for something else to add. The only thing that came into his mind was: “I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry about,” Meg stated. “You’re a beginner who’s still learning his limits. Landmines are bound to happen. Hell, they even happen to people who’ve been doing this for a while. The point is… we have to figure out the reason so we can try and avoid another one in the future.”

Castiel remained silent, staring at the bubbles popping around him as he moved away from Meg so they could be facing each other. “I… I don’t know,” he said.

“When do you think it started going badly?” Meg asked. She seemed genuinely worried.

Castiel reflected about it, and had to admit that it probably had gone badly from the start. He had been distracted and nervous, not really in the proper mindset to get right into the game like other times. He told Meg about his week, about the argument with Amelia, about Claire’s phone call. And, because of how late he woke up, he remembered he hadn’t eaten much that day, and Meg agreed that was also a contributing factor.

“I should have known,” she said. “You weren’t responding as eagerly as usual. You were sort of… going through the motions.”

“I’m sorry,” Castiel repeated. Meg moved closer to him to hug him, her chin on his shoulder. Castiel sighed, enjoying the closeness of her wet body against his, and put an arm around her hip, while sinking his fingers in her hair.

“We both made mistakes,” Meg said. “You should have told me you weren’t up for it. And I shouldn’t have pushed you when I noticed you were acting weird.”

Castiel moved his heads so his lips grazed her forehead. There was something incredibly comforting about being there, just cuddling, just relaxing in each other’s company. After a moment of silence, she spoke again:

“I’m thinking we might have been doing something wrong,” she said.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, we said we were friends with benefits, right? But we’ve been doing a lot of the ‘benefits’ and not enough of the ‘friends’,” she explained. “We need to talk to each other. You need to be able to tell me when things are not okay. “

“I thought you didn’t…” Castiel began, but stopped himself.

“What?” Meg encouraged him.

“I thought you didn’t want that sort of… intimate relationship,” Castiel finished, unsure of what he was trying to say.

“Cas, I’m naked in your tub,” Meg pointed. “I would say we are pretty intimate already, don’t you think?”

Castiel couldn’t discuss that. Meg continued:

“Don’t mix up things. Personally, we can be acquaintance, friends, buddies, whatever we feel comfortable with” Meg explained, shrugging. “But sexually, you are my partner, my sub, and I would be a terrible Dom if I keep neglecting the communication aspect. I can’t stress this enough, you need to trust me, tell me when something’s wrong without fear or shame. Because otherwise, you may get hurt.”

“I thought that was the point,” Castiel said, tilting his head.

“Hurt in a not-previously-agreed way,” Meg clarified. Castiel chuckled a little.

“Very well. I promise I will be more honest in the future,” he said.

“I promise I’ll pay more attention in the future,” she said, smiling, and gave him a soft kiss. “Alright, hey, our first landmine!” she laughed.

“Should we celebrate?” Castiel asked. “I feel like we should celebrate.”

“We totally should celebrate,” Meg agreed. “Are you hungry?”

“I’m starving,” Castiel confessed, and almost as a remark of his words, his stomach groaned loudly.

They ended up ordering pizza and sitting on the couch. Castiel put on a pair of sweatpants, while Meg found an old pajama top that was baggy and long enough to pass as a short nightgown for her.

“Your tub is awesome,” Meg told him, as she vigorously dried her hair. “I’ll tell you what: from now on we’ll meet here, and we’ll take a bath after we finish having sex.”

“You only want me for my tub,” Castiel sighed, sadly.

“Hell yeah,” Meg answered. “I only have this tiny little shower that’s not as nearly as good to fuck in.”

Castiel laughed as he passed her a piece of pizza. He turned on the TV so they could catch a movie, but it turned out Meg was a bit pernickety with her movies. She either had seen them, or seen something with the same director or actor that she didn’t like in the past.

“I hate this remake,” she told Castiel when they found  _Psycho_ (the 1998 version) in one of the channels. “I don’t like the color.”

“You have a problem with the color?” Castiel asked, amused.

“Well, yeah, the black and white original version was much more unnerving,” Meg said. “I watched it when I was fourteen and I didn’t sleep for a week.”

“You watched classic black and white movies when you were fourteen?” Castiel repeated, skeptically.

“I’ve watched classic movies all my life, many of them in black and white. I grew up watching them,” Meg said. “It’s what got me into acting.”

“So you don’t just teach acting?” Castiel wanted to know, partly to tease her, partly authentically interested. “You actually act?”

“I go to auditions now and then,” Meg told him. “I gave up on the idea of being a famous Broadway star long ago,” she added, rolling her eyes.

“You could be,” Castiel said. Meg smiled at him.

“You’re only saying it to get in my pants.”

Castiel opened his mouth to say that no, that he really believed Meg could do anything she wanted, get anything she wanted, be anything she wanted. But then he considered that might be too big of a declaration after such a hectic afternoon; and he didn’t want to kill the good mood.

“Is it working?” he asked instead.

Meg’s answer was to move closer to him and kiss him hungrily.

“Yes.”

 

* * *

 

 

A couple of hours later, Castiel felt Meg moving on the bed.

“What time is it?” she asked.

Castiel had to blink several times before the numbers in his cell phone screen became clear. “Two in the morning.”

Meg groaned, and moved again, trying to escape the arm he had around her waist. “I should go home…”

“It’s late,” Castiel said. He was far too contented, far too warm and far too happy to let her go. “Stay. Just this night,” he begged, and kissed her on the shoulder. “Make an exception. Please…”

Meg gave out a heavy sigh, and returned to her original position, with her back pressed tight against Castiel’s chest.

“Oh, okay,” she accepted, drowsily. “Just this night.”

 

* * *

 

 

The cold winter light crept through the window, and danced over the bed. Meg turned around, awaken, but refusing to open her eyes, and her hand instinctively felt the sheets next to her, looking for the warm body that had been there not five minutes ago. All she could find was an empty space. She raised her head.

“Cas?” she called.

Castiel wasn’t there, of course. With a shiver caused by the morning chill, Meg sat up on the bed rubbing her eyes, going over the events of last night. At first she told herself she was staying to make sure about Castiel’s well-being, but she had to admit he seemed to be quite okay when they went back to bed.

Then, it had been cuddling time. Meg wasn’t a particularly big fan of cuddling, but she was so calm from the bath, so full of pizza and so satisfied in the afterglow, she had to admit she’d rather enjoyed that particular cuddling session. She couldn’t pinpoint the moment she fell asleep, but when she realized she had, she simply had felt too lazy to get up, get dressed and go home.

And so, she ended breaking one of her most strict rules about relationships. Well, it had been one time, after an exceptionally chaotic evening. It wasn’t going to happen again. She had to keep the limits very clear.

She got up, searched her clothes and went to the bathroom. On the hallway, she heard the clatter of fry-pans and cups. Castiel was making breakfast. Meg frowned at herself in the mirror cabinet. Staying over  _and_ breakfast? No, that was definitely way too serious for her. She’d had to tell Castiel that was  _not_ what friends with benefits did.

After she got dressed, brushed her hair with her fingers and made some gargles with Castiel’s mouthwash, Meg walked into the living room. To her surprise, she found Castiel piling up dishes with toasts on a wooden plate. He seemed disappointed to see her there.

“I… I was going to take all this to the bedroom,” he explained.

“Breakfast in bed?” Meg said, and was tempted to take her clothes off again and jump back beneath the sheets. She hadn’t had breakfast in bed in years. Castiel was going to spoil her. She couldn’t let him spoil her.

“As a thank you,” Castiel said. “I know we broke one of your rules last night, but I really appreciated that you stayed,” he explained. “I don’t think I could have slept if you hadn’t been there.”

How could somebody look so innocent and naïve and yet so sexy at the same time? Meg would never stop marveling at that. Also, the quantity and quality of Meg’s smiles had increased since Castiel was in her life, but she still wasn’t quite ready to acknowledge that.

“Well, you can thank me with the biggest cup of coffee you have,” she told him, taking a seat.

“Coming right up,” Castiel said, and disappeared in the kitchen, only to pop his head again. “By the way, how do you like your eggs?”

Meg completely gave up after that. The only person in the world that had cooked breakfast for her had been her mother, and she’s always made scramble eggs because it was the only way she knew how to make them. And there was Castiel; giving her the option of having her eggs anyway she liked them. She thought about making a pun, but it was too early in the morning, and she was too overwhelmed by all that display of care.

She ended up having her eggs poached, her coffee black and strong, and her bread lightly toasted with a lot of butter.

“This is… the best breakfast I had in a long time,” she confessed to Castiel between bites. “You are an amazing cook.”

“It’s just eggs,” Castiel laughed, but Meg could tell he felt flattered. “You should try my pancakes.”

“Oh, God, yes,” Meg practically moaned at the idea of pancakes dripping with maple syrup. “You have to make some next time.”

It took a moment for Meg to register exactly what she had said, and by then, it was too late. Castiel was looking at her all coy and perplexed.

“Is there… going to be a next time?” he asked, insecure. “I mean… for us having breakfast together?”

Meg swallowed loudly. “Well…”

This was it. She had to be firm, she had to be blunt and go straight to the point: there wasn’t going to be a next time and that was her final word, pancakes and eggs and blue puppy eyes be damned. She was no nester, dammit, she wasn’t going to end up having a tooth brush on his bathroom or a drawer on his dresser. No, sir, no way, not Meg Masters…

“Sure,” she heard herself saying. “I don’t see why not.”

“But I thought the rules…”

“Some rules are meant to be broken, Castiel,” Meg stated, and she kept drinking her coffee as nonchalantly as she could, trying to ignore the fact Castiel was grinning like he had just won the lottery.

 

* * *

 

 

“And she actually stayed for breakfast?”

Castiel smiled. He was helping Alfie decide what he should buy for his six-months anniversary with Garth, but he knew that was just an excuse, and that Anna had probably sent their younger brother to spy on him, and that whatever he said would most likely reach Amelia’s ears. He didn’t mind. He was too pleased with life in general to mind it.

“That’s right,” he gloated. “The poached eggs won her over.”

“Huh,” Alfie breathed. “I should learn to cook.”

Castiel giggled as they pass around the shops at the mall. Alfie didn’t seem to have a concrete destination in mind, as he was obviously more interested in prying on his brother personal life.

“So, you guys are like… seriously dating now?” he asked.

“Meg doesn’t date,” Castiel said. At least that much was clear. The friends with benefits status hadn’t change. Just one concrete activity related to it.

“Sounds like you’re dating.”

“We are not,” Castiel assured him.

Alfie raised his hands, as if to indicate he didn’t really have a saying in the matter and lead Castiel into the music shop.

“So you’re still doing the spanking routine, then?”

Castiel realized Anna was probably not the only one that would interrogate Alfie later on. That phrase, for example, sounded way too much like something Gabriel would say.

“Yes, we still are,” he confirmed, because there was no point in denying it. The landmine hadn’t diminished his desire to keep exploring his limits with Meg. “And I would appreciate you didn’t call it that.”

Maybe his tone was a bit harsher than he expected, because Alfie immediately backed down.

“I didn’t mean to offend you, Cas,” he said. “I just wanted to know…”

“Over sharing, Alfie,” Castiel reminded him. “Please, I hate to say Michael’s right. We all hate it.”

Alfie nodded, and he swiftly changed the subject to what classic rock album he should take for Garth. Once he decided and they headed out of the mall, though, he brought it up again.

“Look, I… Anna is just worried about you,” he said, rolling his eyes a little, and Castiel couldn’t help but to smile. He knew their sister all too well. “She thinks Meg is… I’m not going to repeat what she thinks she is.”

“And what do you think?” Castiel asked.

“I think you should know that if someone understands non-conventional forms of sexuality, that would be your very cute and very gay younger brother,” Alfie pointed, as they stopped to buy some pretzels at a street stall.

“It’s not really the same thing…”

“But it sort of is,” Alfie interrupted him. “You care about our opinion, even if you act like you don’t, because we are your family. But ultimately, that’s not going to stop you from doing what makes you happy.”

Castiel stared at him, baffled. Those were exactly the thoughts that had been going through his head that morning as he kissed Meg goodbye.

“Alfie, I had no idea you felt that way.”

“Well, that’s why it took me so long to come out,” Alfie explained, looking at his pretzel like it contained some vital information. “I feared you guys wouldn’t understand it… but then I realized that I couldn’t pretend to be something I wasn’t or to date someone I didn’t like just because of that fear. And yet, I still waited until dad was dead to be honest, and now I’ll never know if he’d have accepted me.”

Castiel nodded, not sure what to say. He never really thought Alfie would be conflicted about his sexuality, and much less that what he was saying made so much sense for Castiel’s situation.

“Anyway, what I’m trying to say is… do whatever makes you happy,” Alfie concluded. “You don’t need our permission. Just… try not to get hurt.”

“Hurt in a not-previously-agreed way, you mean?” he asked, but Alfie just looked at him, confused. “It was funny when Meg made that joke.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

Castiel chewed his pretzel, pensively.

“If it… helps at all, I think dad knew,” he told Alfie.

“No, he didn’t,” Alfie argued.

“Uhm, Alfie… you had a poster of shirtless Antonio Banderas in your room,” Castiel reminded him. “It was kinda hard to miss…”

“I had that poster because I appreciate Spanish films!” Alfie defended himself, but he was blushing slightly. “Really, you all knew? But you acted so surprised when I came out!”

“We agreed that was the polite thing to do,” Castiel confessed.

Alfie puffed, annoyed. “Well… at least you’ve never walked into  _me_ having sex.”


	15. Chapter 15

It was around 4.30 when the last remaining costumers finished their pool game and left the Monster’s Den. Strangely for a Friday, it had been pretty calm, and Dean decided to close early.

“Oh, good,” Meg moved her neck, making it crunch. She’d had to cover for Jo, Dean’s cousin and other waitress, which meant two additional hours standing on high heels and avoiding advances and gropes from semi-drunken men. “I’m going straight to bed,” she told Dean, as she helped him drag the garbage bags outside.

“What? No staying up to see the sunrise?” Dean asked. “No old-timey movie to watch for the thousandth time?”

“I have to go to Castiel’s,” Meg explained, with a yawn.

“Oh, sexy whipping with your Trench Coat guy, then?” Dean said, closing the main door of the Monster’s Den and walking with her through the deserted street.

“Yeah, after Claire goes, I guess,” Meg shrugged. She was really tired, and her feet were killing her, otherwise, she never would have told Dean about it. Her friend stared at her, confused.

“I thought you weren’t into threesomes,” he said, as they reached the side of Dean’s car. The dark blue Impala was almost indistinguishable from the shadows on the street.

“Claire is Cas’ daughter,” Meg explained, knowing she would never hear the end of it. “I promised I’d watch  _Bedknobs and Broomsticks_ with her.”

Dean remained silent for a second, toying with his keys. The he unlocked the doors, and Meg slid in the passenger’s seat.

“Well, say it,” Meg dared him once he was behind the wheel. She was too tired to protest against the teasing she was sure was about to ensue.

“Say what?” Dean asked, starting the engine.

“Whatever clever quip you’re thinking about, bring it on…”

“Meg,” Dean seemed to be choosing his words carefully, “you don’t like kids. In fact, you’ve spent hours rambling on about how much you hate kids. Hell, by the sound of it, I almost think you shouldn’t be  _allowed_ to be around kids.”

“That’s a bit harsh,” Meg frowned.

“It’s the truth,” Dean said. “Ever since I met you, even before you got into all your kinky stuff, you’ve always said how low having kids was in your list of priorities.”

“So, what’s your point?” Meg asked, knowing it was useless denying it.

“So, what’s different about this kid?” Dean wanted to know.

Meg reflected upon it. “I don’t know. The fact that she’s not a brat helps,” she said. “She’s also very smart, like… she solves big-ass puzzles like it ain’t nothing, and she’s only six! I guess she had me at ‘ _Mrs. Pott is my favorite_ ,’” she giggled. Dean still remained quiet a few seconds.

“And you liking her has nothing to do with the fact you’re sleeping with her dad?”

Meg was thrown off balance for a second. “I’m not sure what you’re trying to tell me.”

“I’m saying kids make it harder to leave, Meg,” Dean stated, without taking his eyes off the street.

Meg understood. Lisa.  _Of course._

Not long before, Dean had gotten involved with a yoga instructor named Lisa, for about a year. Meg was sure the relationship would have been at least three times shorter if it hadn’t been for Lisa’s twelve year old son, Ben. The kid was sort of like a mini-Dean: loud, stubborn, and a big fan of old cars and classic rock music. Even when things went sour, Dean had stayed with Lisa longer than it was healthy because he didn’t want to hurt Ben.

“It’s not the same,” Meg told him.

“Yeah, well, think about it for a moment,” Dean said, stopping the car at a red light (even though they were the only ones on the whole city that seemed to be driving around that late). “How long will it be until you get bored of your Trench Coat guy and decide to get another part-time lover? What’ll happen then? Imagine those little puppy eyes when she finds out you’re not watching lame kid’s movies with her anymore…”

“Okay, first,  _Bedknobs and Broomstick_ is epic,” Meg said, maybe trying to joke to alleviate the talk, or maybe because it was the only thing she could argue semi-coherently. “Second, Castiel and I have a no personal drama agreement, and, third, he’s already told Claire that I am  _not_ his girlfriend.”

“I don’t think it makes a difference. For her, I mean,” Dean pointed.

“Yes, it does,” Meg insisted. “I told you: she’s really smart.”

“No kid’s  _that_ smart,” Dean said, sulkily. He parked in front of Meg’s building. “I just don’t want you to… I don’t know, change, I guess?”

“Change?” Meg repeated, confused.

“Yes. I don’t want you to feel obliged to some dude just ‘cause you met his kid, and end up in an apple pie relationship where you won’t be allowed to do your stuff,” Dean explained. “’Cause that’ll make you unhappy.”

Meg smiled. “Look at you, being all concerned and big-brotherly to me.”

“Guess it’s the hour,” Dean shrugged, seemingly uncomfortable now he realized they were actually having a serious touchy-feely conversation.

“Don’t worry. You know that’ll never happen,” Meg assured. “The minute I don’t get to do my stuff, I’m out. Like I’ve always been.”

“I really hope you’re right,” Dean sighed. Meg repeated he was worrying about nothing, and bid him goodnight.

 

* * *

 

 

However, if Dean could have seen Meg some hours later, while she was with Claire on Castiel’s couch watching Angela Lansbury fly her broomstick and command an army of magically animated armors against some Nazis; he probably would have thrown his hands in the air and told Meg he was going to reserve the right to say ‘I told you so’ for later on.

Castiel had never watched  _Bedknobs and Broomstick_ before, and found it hard to follow the plot, as Meg and Claire would not stop discussing exactly how the effects in the movie were made. Claire seemed especially fascinated to find human actors could interact with cartoon characters, and Meg was scandalized to discover she hadn’t watch  _Mary Poppins_ yet.

“Honestly,  _how_ are you raising this kid?” she told Castiel, indignant, before turning to explain something about rotoscopes and animation techniques. Castiel wasn’t sure how much of it his daughter understood, but she certainly was paying attention, and for once, Claire wasn’t the one who babbled all through the movie they were meant to be watching.

There was another reason he couldn’t quite concentrate on the film: Charlie kept texting him panicky messages about how Zachariah had made her go to work on a Saturday, about how a fierce negotiation was going on behind closed doors at Halos’ meeting room, and how Pamela was right all along and they were all going to lose their jobs.

Castiel did her best to calm her down, to promise her none of them was going to get fired. In fact, with the amount of projects Naomi had him taking care of, he was pretty sure they would need to hire more people. It’s not that he wasn’t worried about the idea of having to find a new job (and probably, to move back to his brothers’ apartment since he wouldn’t be able to afford his rent). It was just… not the end of the world.

Of course, not many things felt like the end of the world to Castiel when Meg and Claire were sitting on the carpet, drinking hot cocoa and exchanging impressions on Angela Lansbury’s performance.

“Are you ever going to be on a movie, Meg?” Claire asked.

“Ahm…”

Meg’s answer was interrupted by the intercom.

“That’s your mom,” Castiel told Claire. “Put on your boots and grab your bag, princess.”

“Can’t I stay a little longer?” Claire asked. Castiel didn’t want to tell her he had already asked Amelia for half an hour of grace so they could finish the movie.

“Come on, you know Mom gets all cranky if we make her wait.”

Sighing dramatically, Claire obeyed, and said goodbye to Meg with a hug.

“ _Mary Poppins_ next time?” she asked, eyes opened wide and a little unsecure smile.

“Of course, sweetie,” Meg smiled.

At the entrance hall of the building, Amelia was waiting for them, arms crossed and an annoyed expression in her face.

“We need to talk,” she told Castiel after she greeted Claire.

“Maybe later,” Castiel said, trying to maintain his composure in front of his daughter.

“It’s important,” Amelia insisted.

“Call me later, Amelia,” Castiel said, firmer this time. He forced a smile for Claire and kissed her goodbye. His daughter’s expression was unreadable as she walked to the car with her Mom. Castiel waited until the left to return to his apartment.

Meg had dimmed the lights, and was manipulating the stereo with a glass of wine in her hand.

“Hello,” Castiel said. She turned to him, with an awkward smile, like she had been caught doing something she wasn’t supposed to.

“You’re a classic jazz guy,” she commented.  _Ella and Louis’_ case was still on top of the stereo. Castiel had forgotten to put it back with the rest of the CDs, and had actually been too busy and exhausted all week to change the record.

“Yes… I find it soothing,” Castiel confessed. Meg handed him another glass, and turned on the music. Ella Fitzgerald’s sweet voice wrapped them in, numbering the things she would never forget about her lover.

“ _They Can’t Take That Away From Me._ I love this song,” Meg smiled. “ _Shall we dance._ ”

“I’m really bad at dancing,” Castiel excused himself.

“No, the movie,” Meg clarified, with a laugh. “ _Shall we dance._ Fred sings it to Ginger on the foggy deck.”

“Oh,” Castiel said, without any idea of what she was talking about. He took a sip of wine, and the realized something. “Aren’t we supposed to be sober for…?”

“We’re not playing tonight,” Meg explained. Castiel couldn’t hide his disappointment. “It’s not because of the landmine,” Meg hurried to clarify. “Well, it is. A bit. I want to work more on the communication thing,” she said, as she sat on the couch and motion Castiel to sit next to her. “I realized I’ve been calling all the shots, deciding what we’re going to do without actually consulting with you.”

“I have no problem with that,” Castiel said. “You know more about… well, about everything.”

“Yes, but you’re the one who knows more about yourself,” Meg pointed. “Your limits, what do you like and what you don’t… I mean, I understand this is the first time you’ve been trying stuff other than conventional sex, but there’s gotta be something you’ve always wanted to do and never could, right?”

“Not really, no,” Castiel admitted. “I’ve never thought about it until I met you.”

“Come on,” Meg insisted, with an unconvinced smile. “I know you haven’t been with many women, but…” she stopped when she noticed Castiel was swallowing his wine way too fast. “Hold on, with how many women have you been?”

“Well… counting you…” Castiel emptied his glass before confessing: “That would make two.”

“Two?” Meg repeated, astonished. “What, like… me, and Claire’s mom? Nobody else?”

Castiel nodded, slightly embarrassed, and pour himself more wine.

“You’re kidding,” Meg stated. “You didn’t have another girlfriend before getting married? Never fooled a little on the side?” Her bewilderment only grew as Castiel shook his head. “What, now you’re gonna tell me you were a virgin when you got married?”

Castiel’s answer was to drain his glass again, and Meg had to do the same.

“Why?” she asked, like she couldn’t conceive a purpose for anybody to do such a thing.

“I thought Amelia was the love of my life,” Castiel explained. “That I would never want to be with anyone else…”

“Okay, well, that’s a reason, I guess,” she said. “And how did that work?”

“She hates my guts, and I’m a little less than indifferent towards her…”

“I mean sexually, Cas,” Meg interrupted him. “Love of your life… I’m guessing you two had a pretty uninhibited relationship?”

Castiel finally grasped what Meg was asking. “Oh, no. No, far from it, really,” he stopped a second to gather his thoughts and memories. “At first it was… fine, I guess. I thought it was the most mind-blowing sex ever, but then again, I had nothing to compare it with. Then Claire came along… and I’m not saying it was because of her, but, eh… yeah, our sex life went from mild to almost non-existent.”

“That’s natural… I’ve heard,” Meg said.

“Yeah, maybe for a year or two,” Castiel sighed. “Not for five or six.”

Meg made a gesture of solidarity, and refilled his glass.

“I kept asking her,” he continued. “What could we do, if she would be interest in trying something new, if she wanted us to go somewhere… maybe send Claire to one of her uncles’ house for the weekend, I don’t know,  _something_ . Amelia never… she always rebuffed me,” he sighed. “She would just say she wasn’t as interested in sex as I was, and somehow made me feel like a monster for wanting some intimacy with my wife, you know?”

Meg nodded comprehensively, secretly thinking Amelia was a liar. It wasn’t that she didn’t like sex; it was that she hadn’t found what she liked about sex. What Castiel said next confirmed that impression.

“Then, one day, I came home early from work… heard some really weird noises as I went upstairs… and found Amelia with our accountant Alistair in our bed.”

The memory seemed a little too painful for him, because he came to a halt, staring at his glass without drinking its content.

“Well, it certainly…” Meg started, but was interrupted.

“They were having anal sex,” Castiel let out.

Meg decided she would remain quiet for a minute or two, because she wasn’t sure what the appropriate response to that kind of information was. At this point, they both knew it was probably the wine talking. Castiel hadn’t even told any of his siblings about that detail.

“And Amelia seemed to be enjoying it quite a lot,” he continued, with a bitter laugh. “So, you see… the problem wasn’t that she wasn’t interested in trying out different things, it was that she wasn’t interested in trying them  _with me_ .”

“I can see how that can screw with your head,” Meg said. Castiel sighed.

“I just wished she had been honest with me,” he said. “About… well, everything.”

Meg opened her mouth to say something, but Castiel wasn’t quite finished yet.

“That’s what I like about you, you see,” he said. “With you, I always know where I’m standing. You know what you want, and you’re not afraid to ask it. I can talk about these things with you. You’re… exciting, and determined, and breathtakingly gorgeous, and I really… I’m just wondering what the hell you’re doing with me, and how long will it be until you get bored.”

There, he said it. He didn’t plan to say it, but he had, and now he kinda wished he hadn’t. Meg seemed surprised.

“Me?” she asked. “I’m just an all-around failure with a taste for kinky things. You’re the best guy I’ve ever met, all attentive and courteous and fuck yeah handsome. I don’t know what I did to deserve this, and honestly, I keep wondering when you’re going to see me for what I am and realize you don’t really want me in your life.”

They both felt silent, staring at each other from the opposite sides of the couch. Castiel noticed Meg’s cheeks were red from the wine, her eyes were shining and the first button of her blouse was open. He had seen her naked, and in sexy lingerie, and in skimpy costumes. She had never been more beautiful and seductive than at that exact moment.

“Where’s all this coming from?” Meg asked, with a confused smile.

“I think we might be a little drunk,” Castiel admitted.

“Yeah,” Meg giggled. “You know, I was actually hoping you would tell me all the things you want to do with me and that it would lead to steaming hot, alcohol-fueled vanilla sex.”

“The night’s young,” Castiel shrugged, and Meg moved to sit on his lap.

“For the record,” she said, “I think you’re amazing in and out of bed, and I’m not getting bored of you anytime soon.”

“And for the record,” Castiel answered, wrapping her in his arms. “I don’t think you’re a failure, and I’m very glad you’re in my life.”

Meg breathed in, like she was about to answer, but at the last minute she just shook her head, and kissed Castiel on the cheek, while curling on top of him. Castiel closed his eyes and inhaled the scent of her hair. Ella and Louis were still singing in the background. Castiel hummed the familiar songs of  _Tenderly_ , while Meg left a trail of soft kisses on his lips, his neck, his collarbone.

Maybe it was the wine, Castiel thought. Maybe it was the music, maybe it was the lights. Whatever it was, he felt at peace; and a bit lightheaded.

Like something was burning inside his chest, warm and comforting.

Like everything around them was blurry and slightly surreal.

Like he was floating, as weightless as air.

Like he was falling in love.


	16. Chapter 16

Castiel’s moment of clarity lasted long enough for him to realize he was absolutely fucked.

Meg had made very clear she was not looking for something serious.

There actually was a very specific list of dos and don’ts, and he was positive “falling in love” was under the don’ts column.

But he had. Madly and hopelessly in love. And he could never tell her, because that would probably end with Meg fleeing the apartment in horror.

Therefore, he was fucked.

His brain didn’t seem to care very much, though, not when the cause of all that emotional turmoil was naked in his bed, and urging him to join her as fast as he could.

“Come here, Clarence,” Meg called him, with an inviting smile and a gesture of her hand.

They weren’t doing any BDSM stuff tonight, but she still was in control of the entire situation. Castiel had no problem accepting that. He knew they both liked better that way.

“I never getting tired of looking at you,” Meg told him with a smile, as Castiel crawled on top of her, both his legs around her thighs, his hands at both sides of her head, without touching her, but so close he could feel the heat radiating from her body. “Did it hurt when you fell from Heaven?”

“I can’t believe you’re using that line,” Castiel laughed.

“Well, it fits,” Meg answered, and raised her hands to caress his cheek, his hair, his back. “And also, I may not be sober enough to notice how ridiculous it sounds.”

Those words made Castiel stop in his tracks. “Perhaps we shouldn’t…”

“Don’t get all knight in shining armor with me,” Meg protested, and clutched his hair firmly to pull him in for a kiss. “I’m not that drunk.”

Castiel closed his eyes, and as usual, hushed all the little voices inside his head who told him he was doing something he shouldn’t, that he was going to hell for this. Some things, he had come to discover, were worth going to hell for.

“Tell me what you like, Clarence,” Meg asked in a husky voice. “Tell me what you like to do when we are together.”

“So many things,” Castiel sighed, with a hand on her belly, and slowly going down. “I like to touch you… I like to obey you…”

“I like where this is going,” Meg muttered, pressing her lips against his neck.

“But most of all…” he moaned, feeling her hands travel down his chest, “…I like to kiss you.”

“Kiss me, huh?” Meg repeated, arching an eyebrow.

“Yes. Kiss you,” Castiel said, and proceeded to do exactly that: he kissed her hungrily on the lips; he kissed hard on the neck; and after an encouraging groan, he lowered his head even more, and kissed each one of Meg’s breast.

Then, feeling braver than ever before, he took Meg’s right nipple into his mouth; relishing in the velvet texture of her skin, in the salty flavor of her sweat. Meg let out a cry of pleasure, her nails digging hard on his shoulder, while her other hand yanked Castiel’s hair hard, pushing his face closer to her, forcing him to keep licking and nibbling her.

“Touch me,” she said, and Castiel complied immediately, sliding his fingers between Meg’s legs, caressing her ever so delicately, toying with her clit until she was all warm and wet and out of breath. “That’s a good boy…” she panted.

Castiel lifted his head, and adopted his most imploring tone: “Can I kiss you now, Mistress?”

“Oh, you will kiss me, dear,” Meg grinned, wickedly. That same grin that usually sent shivers down Castiel’s spine. “But in a very… special way,” she said, pushed Castiel so they would roll around on the bed. Castiel was now facing the ceiling, and feeling Meg’s weigh on top of him. “Do you know what a sixty-nine is?” she asked him.

“A number?” he asked, slightly confused. Meg let out a chuckle.

“Okay, so I guess I don’t have to ask if you’ve tried it.”

“I’m sorry,” Castiel said. He could have blushed, if so much of his blood hadn’t gone towards his cock already.

“Don’t be,” Meg said. “I find it strangely arousing that I get to teach you so many things.”

Before Castiel could answer, she put her mouth against his ear and whispered a set of very precise instructions. It sounded complicated, but Castiel’s dick twitched and hardened at the thought of it.

“Shall we try it?” Meg asked, playfully.

“Oh, yes,” Castiel begged. “Please.”

After some fumbling and rolling, Castiel succeeded in positioning his head right between Meg’s legs, as Meg laid hers in the inside of his thighs. When she moved forwards, he had put his arms around her waist to hold her in place.

“Aren’t you uncomfortable like that?” he asked.

Meg’s answer was to lick the tip of his erection, and Castiel let out a moan.

“Don’t get distracted over there, Clarence,” she said. “I want my kiss.”

Castiel wondered how the hell he was supposed to do that when the feeling of Meg’s mouth working him was enough to drive him crazy, but still went for it. The angle was odd, and he didn’t have much room to operate, but somehow he managed to move his tongue forward to search for the already familiar spot. Meg groaned against his crotch, and the sensation made Castiel forget about all of his timidity and insecurities.

Once he did, he got lost in the moment. Meg’s soft skin, her sweet, sweet taste invading his mouth, sent him spiraling down in delightful pleasure; his body burning in small electric impulses all over his skin, amplified by a thousand with every lick, caress and cry of satisfaction Meg gave him. Castiel’s heart was about to jump out of his chest, and his mind was completely obliterated. Nothing in the world felt more important than that moment, Meg’s knees pressed against his shoulder, his fingertips sinking in her hips, every movement of her mouth pushing him closer to release, as he tried to match her rhythm, to show her how much he wanted her to feel as good as he did.

And right when he thought he couldn’t take it anymore, she stopped it all together. Castiel tried to protest, but all that came out of his dry mouth was an inarticulate whimper. Meg turned around with an arrogant smile, and only interrupted her kissing and teasing long enough to put a condom on him. Before Castiel had time to catch his breath, she was on top of him, riding him with violence; thrusting into him with an eagerness he had never experienced.

“M-Meg…” he managed to call out, as the agony of all that desire, all that intensity came crashing down on him with an explosion that made his ears buzz and all of his body shake.

Meg collapsed on top of him with one last shout, breathing heavily. Castiel held her tight, and shut his eyes.

“That was great,” Meg muttered after a while, and her words tickled in Castiel’s neck.

“That was… really great,” Castiel agreed, burying his fingers in her hair. “So… are there any more numbers I should know about?”

Meg giggled while she raised her head to look him in the eye. “Just the number of times I want to fuck you again,” she said. “Let’s see if we can make it up to four tonight…”

 

* * *

 

 

They made it up to three before they were both too happily exhausted to continue, and they woke up late the next morning. Castiel suggested they stay in bed, but Meg wouldn’t hear a word about it.

“You promised me pancakes,” she reminded him, pursing her lips. And there was really no argument he could make against that.

“How you doing?” he asked, when he saw her rubbing her forehead while she made the coffee. “Do you need an aspirin?”

“We only had a bottle of wine. This is nothing,” Meg shrugged. “You don’t really know a hangover until you’ve done Dean Winchester’s Jägerbombs. That’s when you wish you could overdose on aspirins.”

“Well, I may need one,” Castiel said, pressing his shoulder with the hand that wasn’t holding the frying pan. “I think I sprained something last night.”

“Aren’t you an old geezer?” she mocked him kindly. “I’m gonna have to start going easy on you.”

“Don’t you dare,” Castiel half ordered, half begged, and Meg just chuckled. “Alright, here we go,” Castiel announced, taking a step backwards from the stove. He held the fry pan away from him, and then threw the pancake up, which somersaulted in the air before perfectly landing in the same spot. Meg laughed and clapped gleefully. “Still got it,” Castiel gloated.

“Yes, you do,” Meg said, before giving him a peck on the cheek.

That was what Castiel would later cherish the most when he remembered that morning. Above the wonderful sex, above the merry chitchat, above the vision of Meg standing in his kitchen wearing one his old shirts over her jeans; that kiss, that was barely a brush of her lips against his skin, was what turned Castiel’s morning from a good way to start the day to the highest point of his week.

Because it was an innocent, friendly display of affection that had nothing attached to it but contained Meg’s most pure joy. Because it was something so small, so momentary, and yet it made his heart skip a beat. Because it had meant absolutely nothing to her, but the whole world to him.

God, he loved her. He was  _so_ fucked.

 

* * *

 

 

“Those were the best pancakes ever,” Meg stated, scraping her plate.

 

“Why, thank you,” Castiel smiled, humbly. “I did my best.”

Meg rubbed her mouth with the napkin and finished her coffee. “So, do you just cook epic breakfasts or…?”

“I have some tricks up my sleeve,” he admitted. “I enjoy cooking. I can make you dinner sometime, if you’d like.”

“Oh, God, yes,” Meg said. “The only things I can cook decently are instant soups and such.”

Castiel’s first impulse was to say he would cook for her for the rest of their lives, but then he realized that would be sincerely suicidal.

“Nurses,” he said instead, after a pause.

“Come again?” Meg asked, confused.

“Well, when I was in high school, we had this nurse, Mrs. Mitchell. She was a very good-looking woman, and I… had a bit of a crash on her,” Castiel confessed, pretty sure Gabriel and Balthazar would say that was an understatement. “Ever since then, I’ve got a thing for nurses. And, well, you mentioned you have a nurse costume, I was wondering…” he stopped, wondering the best way to put it. “… Could we do that someday?”

“What, nurse role play?” Meg’s eyes shot open in surprise. “Of course we can! I love role play!”

“Okay then, so next time I’ll make dinner for you, and then you can put on your nurse costume,” he said, smiling. Meg squinted her eyes in mistrust.

“Oh, I see what you’re trying to do,” she said him. “I see right through you, don’t think I don’t!”

“W-What am I trying to do?” Castiel asked, trying to sound inconspicuous.

“You are trying to make me fat, aren’t you?” Meg stated.

“No,” Castiel said, lowering his eyes, but unable to hide a grin. Meg grabbed him by the chin and forced him to look at her.

“It’s not going to work,” she warned him. “You can cook for me all you want; I won’t gain a single pound.” She leaned forward so her face was just inches away from Castiel’s. “Because afterwards, you are gonna help me burn all the extra calories.”

“Well, if that’s the case… can I be your personal chef?” Castiel asked. Meg’s crystalline laughter accompanied him the rest of the day.

 

* * *

 

 

Charlie was waiting for him at the entrance of Halos when he got to work on Monday. She seemed nervous, jumping from one foot to the other, and grabbed his arm with unnecessary force as soon when he walked up to her.

“It happened,” she told him, in a terrified whisper.

“What happened?” asked Castiel, confused.

“They bought Halos,” Charlie explained. “That British company, they’re making the official announcement today…”

“Charlie, calm down,” he told her, as they stepped into the elevator. “They’re not going to fire us.”

“How are so sure?” Charlie asked. “What if they fire Zachariah? I’m his secretary; they’re going to fire me too!”

“Or they going to keep you as the secretary for whoever they put in his place,” Castiel said. “You’ve been with Halos for a while now, you know how things work around here. They’re not letting you go.”

“And what about you?” Charlie asked. Castiel took a deep breath, refusing to let his fear speak for him.

“I’ll be alright,” he guaranteed her, even though he didn’t quite believe it. Charlie hugged him, trembling slightly.

They ran into Pamela when they got off the elevator. She gave them an anxious look.

“We’re gathering at the presentation room,” she told them. “All the staff has to go there.”

“Calm down, Charlie,” Castiel said, when he felt Charlie squeezing his arms harder.

“I’m trying,” Charlie said in a strangled voice.

“What do you know about the… the…?” Castiel tried to ask, as they hurried through the hall.

“The new regime?” Pamela completed. “Only that Halos has a CEO now. Some guy named Talbot. Apparently, he’s sort of a big shot.”

“Talbot,” Castiel repeated, frowning. “Where did I hear that name?”

He didn’t have time to remember, because they reached the door of the presentation room. All of their co-workers were there, as tense and frightened as Charlie, whispering to each other in groups of three or four, while shooting occasional glances at the heads of the company, who were the only ones sitting in silence. Castiel spotted Naomi: she was wearing an impeccable grey suit, but she didn’t look as spotless and severe as usual. In fact, she seemed to be very, very tired.

After the last of the staff members had entered, Zachariah stood up and cleared his throat. All of the murmurs died at once.

“Well, as I’m sure you’ve all heard, there had been some major changes here at Halos recently,” he said. He also seemed like he hadn’t slept for a while. “This past weekend, the company has been purchased by Colt Ltd. Now, I assure you,” he said, raising his voice a little when a new avalanche of rumors started, “I assure you that each of your jobs is guaranteed to stay the same. If anything, this will bring more benefits to you, our employees, who’ve always been like a family to us.”

“Yes, you are the weird uncle no one wants to call for Christmas,” Pamela commented, and at least she got Charlie to laugh a little.

“Now, I will like to introduce you to our new CEO… or ‘managing director’, as they say across the pond,” he laughed. “Miss Bela Talbot.”

Something clicked inside Castiel’s head, but he barely had time to brace himself before a dazzling tall brunette, wearing impossibly high heels and a black suit that emphasized each one of her curves, strutted in the room and offered them a candid smile that seemed to light up all of her beautiful features.

“Charmed to meet you, everyone,” she said with a musical accent.

“Oh,” Charlie sighed next to Castiel. “Maybe this isn’t so bad after all.”

Castiel didn’t answer, because if he opened his mouth, he was sure he would start screaming until he spit his lungs out.

He suddenly remembered where he’d heard her name.

Bela Talbot. Meg’s Bela.

_Now_ he was fucked.


	17. Chapter 17

After the initial jet of panic, Castiel had to admit to himself that maybe he was overreacting a little bit.

There was no reason to believe his new boss would hold any animosity towards him. First of all, because Bela didn’t know he was Meg’s current whatever-the-hell-he-was and even if she did find out, why would she care? Castiel wanted to believe Bela was above making his life pitiful just because they happened to have a common acquaintance that happened to be Bela’s former lover and Castiel’s current one. No, Miss Talbot seemed above that kind of things, all professional and serious in her power suite.

He wondered if he should tell Meg about it, but the conversation sounded terrible in his head: “ _Oh, hey, you remember that woman that taught you everything you know about BDSM, the one who broke your heart so badly? She happens to be my new boss! Small world, huh?”_ It would make for awful pillow talk. And besides, he was under the impression Meg wouldn’t want to have anything to do with Bela anyway.

And when all of those small convictions he held on to for dear life came crashing down under the weight of his insecurities, Castiel told himself maybe this was a completely different Bela Talbot after all.

Like he would be so lucky, but a man could dream!

But beyond his personal apprehension towards Miss Talbot, she seemed to be bringing a positive change to Halos. Like Castiel had predicted, rather than fire anyone, the first thing she did was charge Naomi with the task of hiring new people for the artistic department.

“That should keep her entertained for a while,” sighed Pamela.

“I’m just hoping it’ll take some work from our hands,” Castiel answered, looking at his overcrowded desk. He had managed to finish and get the thumbs up for two designs, another one had come back to be remade (Carver again, of course) and he still was working on three more against deadlines that seemed to be looming closer and closer.

Thinking maybe he should prioritize his work, he changed his two following dates with Meg again for Friday evenings again (she seemed disappointed, and hinted that she wanted to go back to Saturday night as soon as Castiel was less snowed under) and tried to sneak out of his compromise of driving Anna, Alfie and Garth to Raphael’s birthday party the following weekend.

Of course, Anna managed to hit him where it hurt to prevent him from doing such a thing.

“Claire hasn’t seen her cousins since before Christmas,” she told Castiel in a rather cold voice. “Sophie and Sarah miss her a lot, and I’m sure Claire misses them too.”

“Of course she does, but…”

“What? You think she would prefer an afternoon watching movies with your girlfriend instead?”

Castiel vowed to cut Alfie’s tongue next time he saw him.

 

* * *

 

 

Of course, the ride was made in the most absolute and awkward silence. Anna traveled beside him in the passenger seat, in such a freezing silence Castiel was surprised the glass weren’t getting fogged; and that inhibited Garth and Alfie of making any comments. After a while of staring out the window with an expression of supreme boredom, Claire asked:

“How’s Meg, Daddy?”

Castiel wished she hadn’t asked that, because it made Anna turn to him and shoot him a look of absolute contempt.

“Yes, Cas, how is she?”

“She’s fine,” Castiel said, without taking his eyes of the road.

“Why couldn’t she come to Uncle Raphael’s party?” Claire asked. “I wanted Sophie and Sarah to meet her.”

“Yes, Cas, why didn’t you bring her along?” Anna asked viciously.

“I thought this was more of a family thing,” Castiel excused himself, still refusing to turn to look at her sister.

“So weird that you don’t want Raphael to meet your girlfriend,” Anna pointed.

“Anna…” Alfie tried to intervene, but Claire interrupted him:

“We’re not supposed to say she’s his girlfriend. It makes her uncomfortable,” she explained, matter-of-factly. The turned to Alfie and added in a carried whisper: “But I think she is.”

“I think she is too,” Alfie said, and Castiel saw him put a finger to his lips through the rearview mirror. Claire did the same, like they were sharing a secret.

“Meg’s not my girlfriend,” he sighed, knowing nobody believed him. He glanced sideways at Anna, who had an incredulous look upon her face. “She is not!” he insisted.

“How about some music?” Garth suggested.

“Excellent idea,” Castiel agreed, and turned on the stereo. Sinatra’s voice drowned any attempt at continuing the conversation for the rest of the way.

 

* * *

 

 

As all the members of the Abbot family knew, Raphael was aware of the party all along, but still acted shocked when he and Kelly walked in, and all his siblings, neighbors and members of his congregation yelled “SURPRISE!” He smiled widely, and hugged everyone, before drinks and snacks seemed to appear out of nowhere (courtesy of Gabriel and Balthazar, thank you very much), and soon everyone was laughing and talking, gathered in groups of three or four people.

Unlike in many parties he had been at, Castiel felt quite comfortable there. As Raphael still lived in their old house and preached in the same parish his father had, the Abbots were familiar with most of the neighbors. For example, before long, he found himself caught in conversation with Missouri Mosely, who lived at the other end of the street and had babysat for him and his siblings when she was a teenager. She used to call them “the Abbot dwarves”. Castiel was taller than her now, but she had gotten quite wider.

“Look at your girl!” she told him, smiling, when she saw Claire and her cousins running around. “She’s such a cutie! How old is she, five?”

“Six,” Castiel answered. “She’s learning to spell.”

“Oh, aren’t you the picture of a proud dad?” Missouri laughed, but suddenly got serious and put a hand on his arm. “Kelly told me about your divorce. How are you handling?”

“I’m fine,” Castiel assured her. “It’s Claire I’m more worried about, really.” He meant to add something else, but wasn’t sure if that would be confiding too much on an old neighbor. Missouri shook her head.

“Kids never tell,” she said. “They just gallop down the pain by themselves. Like when my papa died, I tried to not to cry so I wouldn’t upset mama.”

“How’s your mother?” Castiel asked, thankful for the opportunity to change the topic, and feeling a little guilty that he didn’t really care about Mrs. Mosely’s health.

“Oh, same old, same old,” Missouri shrugged. Anna approached them at that moment, and Missouri took upon the chance to probe her. “Tell me, dear, any tall handsome stranger in your life lately?”

“Oh, no, no, I’m alone,” Anna said, laughing. “But Castiel is dating someone rather interesting.”

“So soon!” Missouri looked outraged, and Castiel knew that by the end of the party, everybody would know and be silently judging him.

“Excuse me,” he sighed, when he spotted Claire, Sophie and Sarah making some impressive avoiding maneuvers among the guests. “Careful now, girls!”

“Sorry, Dad!” Claire said, out of breath, but didn’t slow down at all while she and Raphael’s daughters dashed towards the garden.

“Let them play, Cas,” his oldest brother told him, in a rather jovial tone. He had a beer in his hand, and Castiel envied him a little: he had to drive, so he couldn’t erase the conversation with Missouri by drinking himself into oblivion, like Gabriel seemed to be doing in the living room.

“Where do they find all that energy?” Castiel wondered, watching the girls run around in the garden, chasing the family cat, who obviously wasn’t interested in playing with them.

“Kids will be kids,” Raphael laughed. “So, how have you been, brother?” he asked politely, and Castiel got the impression there was an underlying question.

“I’m fine,” Castiel repeated, and waited for Raphael to continue.

“I’m a bit surprised to see you alone,” Raphael said. “I was hoping I would meet this Meg girl Anna told me about. The way she puts it, you two are pretty serious, aren’t you?”

Castiel felt a wave of heat climbing up towards his face. What  _exactly_ had Anna told him? Raphael was piercing him curiously, waiting for an answer.

“I didn’t considerate appropriate to invite her,” Castiel said, diplomatically. “We’ve only been seeing each for about three months. It’s a very short time.”

“But not short enough to introduce her to your daughter?” Raphael asked. Castiel’s grip got tighter around his glass, and he still refused to face his brother.

“It was a coincidence that they met,” he said, not expecting Raphael to believe him. “Just as it was a coincidence she met Anna, and an unfortunate one. She seemed to have taken a certain dislike for Meg.”

“And is it unjustified?”

“Yes, yes it is,” Castiel said; his hands so tight around his glass that his knuckles turned pale. “Meg is a good woman. She’s kind, and funny, and she harbors no second intentions for our relationship, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Are you sure about that?” Raphael asked. His tone was serious and slightly accusatory, very similar to the one their father used to adopt when he was trying to get them to confess a misdeed.

“I am absolutely sure, Raphael,” Castiel stated. “And while I appreciate your concern, I would very much like that you stop prying in my life!”

The conversations around them died out, and Castiel realized, mortified, that he had raised his voice in irritation. Raphael’s face was unreadable.

Castiel excused himself and left for the bathroom, where he remained hidden for some good fifteen minutes, the time it took him to calm down and promise himself he wouldn’t jump at the neck of the next person who brought up either the divorce or Meg, no matter how much he wanted to. He didn’t get to test the strength of that resolution, though: nobody else mentioned either of those topics for the rest of the party.

 

* * *

 

 

As it usually happens when you’re uncomfortable or anxious, time seemed to drag on and on. Castiel made polite conversation with a couple more of old neighbors, watched out for Claire when the girls came back, still chasing the poor cat; and avoided his siblings at all cost. It wasn’t that hard: Anna was singing and playing the old piano, Balthazar was making sure Gabriel didn’t die of alcohol poisoning, and Alfie and Garth had disappeared somewhere a while ago.

Finally, after what felt like centuries, the last of the guests left (Missouri Mosely, reminding them all to come have tea with her some time), and Castiel could pick up an exhausted Claire from the couch and ran to his car to wait for the rest after a rushed goodbye.

The way back to Manhattan was as silent as the previous one. Claire was fast asleep, and Alfie was dozing off with his head on the shoulder of his boyfriend. Anna was once again giving him the silent treatment, but Castiel didn’t mind as much. He still wasn’t sure he could keep his temper under control.

They dropped Alfie and Garth first, and then Castiel turned to the Avenue to get Anna to her apartment. The minute they were alone in the car, Anna cleared her throat.

“So…” she began, but Castiel cut her off.

“Has Meg done anything to you, or do you just hate her on principle alone?” he asked, and it sounded a little more aggressive than he had intended it to. Anna seemed taken aback for a moment, but recovered quickly.

“I don’t hate her, Castiel,” she said.

“Well, you’re not her number one fan either,” Castiel groaned.

“No, I’m not,” Anna admitted. “Look, I’m sorry I told Raphael, I should have known he was going to badger you about it. But I was hoping he would talk some sense into you.”

“Sense?” Castiel repeated, somewhere between confused and angry. “Because I’m with someone who happens to not be my wife?”

“Because I’m afraid you’re moving too fast, okay?” Anna replied. “Cas, this isn’t like you. You’re the guy who took months before asking a girl out, you hesitated for years before asking Amelia to marry you. And now we walk on you with someone that you’ve known for merely weeks, and you’re…” she glanced behind, to the still sleeping Claire, and made a gesture that indicated she couldn’t finish that phrase. “I’m sorry if I think she’s trying to take advantage of my brother.”

Castiel let out a bitter laugh, because the other option was screaming in frustration. “You got it all wrong, Anna,” he said. “You heard Claire, Meg doesn’t like to be referred to as ‘my girlfriend’. She wouldn’t stay the night if I didn’t bribe her with breakfast. She couldn’t care less about my money, and she holds me at arm length whenever I try to be attentive or affectionate towards her. The fact is, we’ve barely moved at all from where we were the first time we met,” Castiel concluded, bleakly. “That’s what Meg wants, and I… well, I’ll take what I can get.”

Anna remained silence. Castiel couldn’t see her face, but her voice sounded bewildered when she spoke again: “Cas… are you in love with her?”

Castiel knew the answer to that, but refused to say it out loud. He was afraid that if he did, it would make it much harder to keep it hidden from Meg.

 

* * *

 

 

Claire was absolutely worn out, but that didn’t stop her from demanding a fairytale from Castiel when they got home. Of course, she was snoozing again around half of it. Castiel smiled, kissed her in the forehead and turned off the lamp at her night table before tiptoeing out of the room. He wasn’t going to bed just yet. There were some drafts he needed to finish, and also…

His cell phone vibrated inside his pocket. He frowned in confusion when he saw the number displayed on the screen.

“Meg?”

“Hey,” Meg’s voice came from the other sound, husky and a little bit lower than usual. “How was the party?”

“It was… fine,” Castiel said, puzzled. “W-Why are you…?”

“I just, uhm… I… you know what, forget it,” Meg said. Castiel had never heard her so nervous. “I’m sorry I bothered you.”

“No, you’re not bothering me at all,” Castiel hurried to say. “Is everything alright?”

There was a long pause. Then, Meg sighed: “No.”

“What is it? You can tell me,” Castiel encouraged her. His heart gave a twitch. For some reason, he had the impression that Meg had been crying.

“Is it… is it okay if I go see you?” she asked. Castiel dithered at the edge of screaming “yes”.

“Claire’s here,” he warned her. “We can’t…”

“No, it doesn’t… we don’t have to do anything,” Meg clarified. “I just… I don’t want to be alone right now.”

Castiel closed his eyes. There had been definitely a crack in her voice. Meg was about to burst into tears. “Of course you can come,” he said.

Half an hour later, he opened the door to find a very different Meg. She had not put on any make up, and her hair looked like she had just combed it quickly before running out. She wasn’t crying, but her eyes were red and puffy. She walked in without saying a word.

“Meg, what happened?” Castiel asked, worried. “Are you okay…?”

Meg threw her arms around his neck, and kissed him fiercely; pressing her body against his like she was trying to melt with him. Castiel barely had time to do anything but hold her, and let her push him against the wall, bite his lower lip and bury her hands in his hair. When she broke apart, she leaned her face against Castiel chest and muttered:

“I am now.”


	18. Chapter 18

At first, Meg refused to tell him the reason to her visit, and after a while, Castiel gave up, and just curled up with her in the couch and held her tight. Apparently, that was all that Meg really wanted. She started sobbing quietly, and Castiel, feeling like something was breaking inside him, just caressed her hair and assured her everything was alright. It took a long while for her to calm down.

And when she finally did, all she said was:

“You are not like the others, are you?”

“I’m… not sure what you mean,” Castiel said. He really had no idea how to react. He wanted to console Meg, but he was afraid to insist on asking what was wrong. She obviously didn’t want to talk about that.

“I mean you are not selfish asshole,” she said, and Castiel didn’t know whether to feel insulted or flattered. “You’re not a psycho stalker. You are not submitting just to keep me pleased. You didn’t give me a timeline during which I’m allowed to call you so your wife won’t find out about me,” she gave a deep sigh, and raised her head to look at him in the eye. “And you wouldn’t walk away on me without any explanation, would you?”

Castiel’s brain lighted up. “Is this… is this about Bela?”

“Bela?” Meg repeated, like he had caught her off guard for a second.

“I’m sorry, Meg, I should have told you,” Castiel lowered his eyes, embarrassed. “Bela’s in New York, she is working for Halos…”

“Oh,” Meg said. “So you’ve met her.”

“She’s my new boss,” Castiel nodded. Meg gave him a half-smile.

“She’s overwhelming, isn’t she?” she asked. Castiel saw her lower lip trembling, and squeezed her hand tight. “Yes. She called me,” Meg confessed. “She wanted to see me. Catch up. See if there was any chance that we pick up from where we left.”

Castiel’s stomach turned into an uncomfortable knot. Meg wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, and he hurriedly offered her his handkerchief.

“She didn’t like it when I said I was with someone else,” Meg added. “We ended up fighting. Pretty loud.”

Castiel still didn’t say anything. Suddenly, ‘Miss Talbot’ didn’t look as elegant or as dazzling in his mind as the first time he had seen her. Meg toyed with the handkerchief.

“You know what’s funny? I always thought that if Bela called me, I would run back to her, without even saying goodbye to whoever I was with at the moment,” she said. She turned to look at Castiel. “But I can’t do that to you.”

“I… I understand,” Castiel said, his jaw tightening.

“I wished it had gone differently, though.”

“If that’s what you’ve decided…”

“What else I was going to decide?” Meg asked.

“Of course, I-I can’t blame you.”

Meg opened her mouth to say something else, but then Castiel’s words seemed to hit her. “Wait, what are you talking about? Blame me for what?”

“Well…” Castiel tilted his head in confusion. “Bela… you’re not… going back to her?”

“Hell no, that would be emotional suicide!” Meg exclaimed, like Castiel had just suggested something particularly horrifying. “No, Cas, that’s not what I meant.”

“Then… what were you…?” Castiel squinted his eyes, and then it dawned on him: “You’re choosing… me over Bela?”

“Basically,” Meg stated, and then felt that she needed to elaborate: “I was trying to say that this is the best relationship I’d had in years, and that I’m really glad Dean gave you my number, but now…”

“… I sort of ruined the moment, didn’t I?” Castiel realized.

“Yes. Yes, you did.”

They stared at each other, not knowing how to restart the conversation. Then, the faintest smile crossed Castiel’s lips, as he slapped his forehead with his right hand. “I’m an idiot,” he realized.

“You are,” Meg agreed, but moved closer to him. “But you’re  _my_ idiot.”

Castiel looked up, still smiling. He cupped Meg’s face in his hands, and slowly, ever so delicately, he pulled her in for a kiss. He felt the words burning in his throat, three little words that would change everything there was between them, that would let Meg know how much he needed her, but that also might frighten her. So he didn’t dare to say them. But he tried to transmit their meaning in that kiss.

There were new tears on Meg’s eyelids when he drew back.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

Castiel wasn’t sure what she was thanking him for, but it didn’t really matter. There were very few things in the world he wouldn’t do for her; and those were things, he was sure, Meg would never ask for.

“Anything you need,” he said. “Anytime you want.”

 

* * *

 

 

Meg had a very strict principle about asking for favors. She was convinced nothing she couldn’t obtain by herself was worth having. Obviously, like everyone else, now and then she needed a hand, a hug, a reminder that everything was alright (like the past Saturday, when she had ran to Castiel’s apartment in tears). But in general, she liked to think that she was perfectly capable of fending for herself, and would never take advantage of the people she cared about.

And then, there were days the universe seemed to conspire to prove her wrong.

“What do you mean you can’t pick me up?” she asked on the phone. “Dean, may I remind you these fucking framed posters you’ve been pestering me for are for  _your_ bar?”

“Do you really think I’d rather be here trying on tuxedos with the Stepford wife?” Dean said, sounding profoundly frustrated. “No, of course I don’t mean you, Jess. I’m talking about Sam…”

“What do I do?” Meg staring at the two extremely heavy boxes laying out in front of her.

“Can’t your friend hold them until tomorrow?” Dean suggested.

Meg turned to Kevin, the clerk at the comic and movies store, who shrugged. “Sorry, Meg. Boss said you either take them all today or she’s gonna sell them separately,” he said apologetically, and kept skimming through his comic.

“She can’t sell them separately, they’re a collection!” Meg screamed, scandalized. Kevin shrugged again. “Okay, Dean, I’ll see what I can do.”

“Right. Meet at me at the Den in… how much do you think this is gonna take?” he asked to his companion. Meg heard Jess’ voice muffled through the speaker. “Seriously? Why do I need one of these anyway? I’m not getting married, and at this rate, neither is Sammy! No, I didn’t mean that, Jess. Geez,” he sighed as his brother’s fiancée nagged on him. “Maybe an hour,” he told Meg, cheerless.

“Good luck to you,” Meg wished, and close her cell phone. “Okay, Kev, I need you to come with me…”

“Can’t,” Kevin said, without lifting his head from the comic. “Boss said if I leave the store unattended again, I’m fired.”

“Come on, Kevin,” Meg leaned on the counter so Kevin could not possibly ignore her. “I’ll take only twenty minutes. I just need a strong, handsome man to help me…”

“I’m not falling for that. Not again,” Kevin stated, although it was obvious he felt tempted. “I have a girlfriend now.”

“Damn,” Meg muttered and backed away to start looking for numbers in his cell phone.

“Really? That’s all it took?” Kevin was abashed.

“No flirting with taken guys. I learned that the hard way,” Meg explained, while hitting the call button.

Ash was also busy and wouldn’t be available until later. Jo wasn’t answering her phone, and Kevin warned Meg his boss would be returning soon, and wouldn’t be happy to find out the posters weren’t gone.

“Why don’t you call a taxi?” he suggested.

“I have a cheap boss,” Meg said, and it was true for both of her bosses. “You know how that’s like.”

Kevin nodded comprehensively, while she evaluated her options.

_Anything you need. Anytime you want._

She hated the idea of calling him. She hated it because that would be asking him for something that didn’t strictly concern just the two of them. She hated it because it was the middle of the week and not one of their date days. She hated it because she had already spent a night in his bed without having sex, and she hadn’t minded at all. She hated it because it sounded too much like an excuse just to see him.

And it was. She just wanted to see him. But she was never going to admit it out loud.

Kicking herself mentally, Meg called Castiel.

 

* * *

 

 

Castiel wasn’t having the best of days either.

“Are you sure this is the only solution?” he asked, for the third or fourth time. The mechanic gave him a shrug, and is if it was trying to reinforce that opinion, the engine of his car let out another puff of grey smoke.

“Sorry, boss. Gotta take it to the workshop,” the mechanic said.

Bela Talbot chose that precise moment to walk out the building, followed closely by Zachariah, who seemed to have become her pug lately. She gave Castiel an almost compassionate look. “Well, Abbot,” she said. “Walking to work is good for your health, you know?”

Castiel suppressed the urge to say something really stupid or childish along the lines of  _“Yeah, well, I’m sleeping with your ex-girlfriend!”_ while Bela and Zachariah slid inside the luxurious BMW waiting for them.

“Do I call the tow, boss?” the mechanic asked. Castiel barely had time to nod before his cell phone started ringing.

“Hey, is this a bad time?” Meg asked.

“No, I’m just… leaving the office,” Castiel said. Meg hesitated for a couple of seconds.

“I… I need to ask you a favor,” she finally said.

“Well, as long as it doesn’t involve my car,” Castiel tried to joke. Meg’s silence at the other end let him know that  _that_ was exactly what it involved. “Oh. Oh, damn, Meg, I’m sorry…”

“No, it’s okay. I… have a bit of an issue,” Meg said, and explained to Castiel exactly what she needed.

“Maybe Balthazar can give us a ride,” Castiel suggested.

“Really? I wouldn’t want to bother him…”

“It’s no problem,” Castiel stated. “He owes me one.”

It turned out Balthazar was too busy at the travelling agency (some old lady had decided she wanted to spend all of her savings in a grand trip to Europe, and he was stuck helping her plan it), but he said he would send someone. Twenty minutes later, while Castiel watched his car being towed away, Anna showed up in Balthazar’s gray Mercedes.

“What’s the emergency?” she asked. Castiel’s heart sank.

“Oh, Anna, you don’t have to… I mean, it’s not…” he stuttered.

“Come on, Cas, I know I’ve been a jerk to you,” Anna said, with a remorseful smile. “Let me help you out of this one.”

So it was that for the second time that in less than a week, Castiel found himself in an awkward ride with his sister, only this time she was behind the wheel, and the passengers in the backseat were Meg and her boxes.

“For what is worth,” Meg said clumsily as they left the comic and movies store, “I really appreciate this.”

“Yeah, you better,” mumbled Anna.

“You didn’t have to come with us, you know,” Castiel reminded her. “You could have just given me the keys…”

“No, no,” Anna said. “Balthazar told me not to let the car out of my sight. I get why now. He probably thought you were going to have sex in it.”

“Anna!” Castiel exclaimed.

“Honestly, I prefer smaller cars for that,” Meg stated, sardonically. “They’re cozier.”

Anna shot a look of supreme derision at her brother, but he was too embarrassed to notice.

 

* * *

 

 

“There you are!” Dean exclaimed, when they parked the car in front of the Monster’s Den and Meg got out of it. “How hard was for you to get a ride?”

“Don’t ask,” Meg said, rolling her eyes. Castiel and Anna had gotten out too.

“’Sup, Trench Coat?”

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel answered, picking up the box Meg was passing him.

“And who might you be?” Dean asked, putting on his biggest smile.

“This is my sister, Anna...” Castiel introduced her, and was about to say something else when Meg stomped on her foot. He turned to asked why she had done that, but then he noticed Anna was smiling back at Dean.

“Hi,” she said.

“Hello, there” Dean said, and took the box from Meg’s hands, presumably to show how strong and manly he was. “So… are you guys helping us with these things?”

“Oh, no, Dean, they probably just want to go home…” Meg said.

“We should return the car to Balthazar…” Castiel said at the same time.

“Don’t be silly, Cas, we can hang out for a while,” Anna said, twisting a lock of her red hair between her fingers.

“Awesome,” Dean said. “We’re just gonna put these on the walls, and then we’re having some pizza and beers…”

“Oh, I hadn’t eaten a good slice of pizza in a while,” Anna commented.

“Then you’re in for a treat. I know where they sell the best pizzas in the whole city,” Dean boasted as they walked into the bar, completely forgetting about Meg and Castiel, who were still standing on the street trying to figure what the hell had just happened.

“Is this something we should be worried about?” Castiel asked.

“Yes,” Meg said. “We should be very, very worried…”

Dean popped out his head. “Come on in, Trench Coat,” he invited him. “The gang wants to meet you.”

“The gang?” Castiel repeated confused.

“Our friends,” Meg explained, and she looked like she wanted to disappear from the face of the Earth. “Just… don’t take them seriously,” she warned him, and led the way inside.

“Hello, Broadway!” a deep loud voice greeted them as soon as they crossed the door.

“Benny!” Meg exclaimed, all her apprehension forgotten as she ran into the arms of a tall muscular guy standing in the middle of the bar. “I didn’t know you were in town, sailor!”

“I have a few days,” Benny said, a wide smile on his rounded face. “And what better way to spend them than with you, crazy kids?”

“Cas, this is my friend Benny,” Meg introduced him, as Castiel put down the box on one of the tables.

“That’s Captain Lafitte to you,” Benny said, squeezing Castiel’s hand so hard he thought he heard his fingers creak.

“Nice to meet you,” Castiel managed to say, shaking his hand to alleviate the pain.

“Don’t kill him yet, Benny,” laughed a pretty blonde girl, who was standing next to the pool table with a billiard cue in her hand. “How are you, pretty?” she asked, blowing a kiss to Meg.

“Better now that I get to see you, beautiful,” Meg said, and moved to hug the blonde. “This is Jo, Dean’s cousin,” she said. “The bag of bones about to miss his shot is Ash.”

“Hi,” Ash said, without looking up. Indeed, he was very skinny and had very bad looking mullet.

“And the giant over there being whipped by his fiancée,” Meg pointed towards a guy even taller than Benny, who was talking on his cell phone a little away from the rest, “is Dean’s brother, Sam.”

Sam looked up with a half smile, and waved his fingers in recognition, before turning his back while he said: “No, I’m still here…”

“Of course, she doesn’t whip him in the sexy way Meg whips you,” Dean said very loudly, giving Castiel a friendly poke. Castiel felt his face flushing, and refused to meet his sister’s eye. “Alright, boys and girls,” Dean called, but stopped when he realized his brother was still on the phone. “You done, Sammy?”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay. I love you too. Bye,” Sam said hurriedly, and finished the call before nodding to his brother.

“As I was saying,” Dean cleared his throat. “We have hammers, nails, and now that Meg’s here, we have the posters. I want this place turned into a real monster’s den in two hours time, because I’m freaking starving and I want pizza.”

“Yes, sir!” Benny said, while Ash made a mocking military salute.

“And so it begins!” Dean determined, and with a flourish of his hand, he put on music so loud Castiel was sure the whole country could hear it.

“You sure you want us to stay?” he asked his sister, but Anna just walked up next to Dean and started asking where he wanted the posters.

Castiel felt a hand closing on his, and turned to see Meg.

“The gang,” she shrugged with a smile. “They’ll grow on you.”


	19. Chapter 19

As Castiel wasn’t dressed to climb on stairs and nail things to the wall, all he could do was hold the frames and follow Benny around the bar while the sailor made a display of his very impressive muscles. The music was very loud, but Benny’s voice was louder, and he wasted no time in letting Castiel know he had been on the Navy practically since he got out of high school, that he was trained to kill a man with his bare hands, had access to military boats and knew exactly how far into the sea he had to go to dispose of unwanted loads nobody would ever find.

“Just so you have an idea who you’re dealing with,” he said, with a threatening smile, and Castiel looked nervously around, but found no help.

Anna was working alongside Dean, and he seemed to be telling her something really funny, because his sister was laughing very vivaciously. On the furthest wall to Castiel’s, Jo was the one hammering the wall, holding several nails between her lips, as Ash kept the stairs in place for her. Meg and Sam had been discussing over what the rest of the group classified as triviality, and were now working in a passive-aggressive silence that made the Cold War look like a polite disagreement.

“Broadway’s like the lil’ sister I never wanted, you know,” Benny was telling him, as they moved to nail the last of the framed posters. “I met her and Winchester back in New Orleans. They were hitching through the state, following Ozzy’s concerts. Greenest kids I’ve seen. So I gave ‘em a lift,” he remembered. “Been trying to look after ‘em ever since, and I feel sorry for the sucker who dares hurt a hair of their crazy lil’ heads.”

“Everything clear here, guys?” Meg asked, making Castiel jump in his place. He suddenly was pretty nervous.

“I dunno,” Benny said, raising an eyebrow. “Are we clear, Trench Coat?”

“Crystal clear, Captain,” Castiel nodded, and swallowed loudly.

Dean turned off the music, and stood perfectly still in the middle of the bar, a hand in his chin, like he was reflecting. The empty walls were now full of all kinds of movie monsters: from a black and white Dracula staring at them menacingly, to a big Alien showing his teeth. Dean had also added shotguns, katanas, machetes, old Victorian guns and all sort of fake weaponry, some of them with the inscription “USE IN CASE OF MONSTERS” underneath.

“What you think, boss?” Jo asked him.

“Bobby would have liked it,” Sam contributed.

“He would have  _hated_ it,” Dean declared. “But I love it. Thank you, guys,” he said, and started clapping his hands until everybody joined him, laughing and cheering nonstop.

“Alright, you big sentimental ‘idjit’!” Meg called him after a while, in which everyone later agreed was an eerily good imitation of Bobby. “You promised us pizza and beer!”

“And pizza and beer you shall have!”

Beer was the easy thing. They were in a bar, after all, but the pizza was harder to agree on: everyone had their own opinion about which place was the best to call to, and in the end Dean got away with his. Castiel tried to discreetly let Anna know he wanted to leave a couple of times, but even if he had managed to get her attention, they probably would have suffered the same fate than Sam when he tried to sneak away.

“I’ll better be going now,” he said standing up, and he received a cacophony of ‘come on’s, ‘but why’s’ and ‘boos’ in response. Ash raised his hand and pretended to swing an invisible whip over his head.

“Sam, you’re getting married next month!” Jo reminded him. “You have the rest of your life to go home to Jess. How many nights do you have to enjoy such fine company as this?” she asked, gesturing towards the rest of the group.

“That’s not it, guys,” Sam assured them, slightly embarrassed.

“Then what is it, Sammy?” Dean asked.

Sam grimaced and pointed one of the posters to the left. “That clown’s giving me the creeps.”

Ash, Benny and Jo roared with laughter, while Dean shot a severe look at Meg.

“Did you get that one on purpose to annoy Sam?” he asked.

“Of course not! It’s just Pennywise from  _IT_ !” she clarified, offended. “It’s a classic!”

“Movie nerd,” Ash coughed.

“And proud of it!” Meg said. “You said you wanted monsters. Pennywise is a monster. Tell your big baby of a brother to deal with it.”

“Are you this mean to everyone or do you make a special effort with me?” Sam asked. Meg opened her mouth, probably to fire a snarky remark.

“We can switch seats,” Castiel suggested before she could, and it was only when everyone turned to look at him that he realized he’d said out loud. Blushing, he continued: “I mean, you can’t see the clown from where I’m sitting.”

“Huh,” Sam said, analyzing him. “You’re a good guy.”

“Thank you,” Castiel said, not sure why was that a compliment.

“What is Meg doing with a good guy?” Sam asked, frowning like that was a particularly complicated math problem.

“Corrupting him,” Anna and Dean declared in unison. They exchanged looks and started chuckling like it was some sort of private joke. Meg turned to look at Castiel all wide-eyed, but he wasn’t exactly sure what was she trying to tell him.

"Please, Sammy, stay,” Dean insisted. “I promise you, Pennyguise is not going to get you.”

“Pennywise,” Meg corrected.

“Whatever!”

The pizza arrived at that moment, and then it was just rude to leave. After moving chairs and putting tables together, they managed to find a disposition that everyone was happy with (Sam rejected Castiel’s idea of turning his back to the clown; he said that would make him even more nervous), and the evening seemed to melt away between stories, jokes, laughter and chatter. Castiel had never been much of a social guy (and even less with people he had just met), but with Meg’s hand on his and two beers on his belly; he actually find himself enjoying the conversation and the company.

The gang was a kind group that had assembled in the most unusual ways. Jo wasn’t actually Dean and Sam’s cousin; but her mother Ellen had married their Uncle Bobby, so the Winchester considered her as such. (Also, Bobby hadn’t really been their uncle, but the brothers had a broad concept of family). Dean and Meg had met during a Ozzy Osbourne concert (Sam was supposed to be there too, but he got stuck studying for finals) and they decided to make an impromptu road trip to follow him the rest of the tour, and as Benny had told Castiel, they’d met the sailor on the way.

The brothers had a very cute anecdote about the time they met Ash.

“So Dean somehow manages to get my computer froze on bustyasiansbeauties.com,” Sam told, his anxiety at Pennywise forgotten. “And I had to write a paper that was like 30% of my grade. Imagine my desperation. Dean says ‘Don’t worry about it, Sammy’, and he goes and calls the first computer guy he finds in the yellow pages.”

“And this guy shows up,” Dean continued, pointing at Ash. “The mullet was longer than now, and he was reeking –  _reeking_ – of weed. He had this hippy shirt that said ‘ _I’m big in Korea_ ’…”

“ _In Japan_ !” Ash corrected him, and took over the story. “I look at the computer and realize this genius was downloading that shit. Who  _the hell_ downloads porn? Anyway, I tell them I have to reset it, that they may lose some data and such…”

“And I say…” Dean tried to continue, but he was breathless from trying not to laugh. “I say…”

“’I have some videos of Lucy Lee there. Is there any chance you can save those?’” Ash remembered. “And I’m like ‘Dude! You like Lucy Lee?!’”

“And they spent  _two hours_ bonding over Asian porn stars,” Sam remembered, shaking his head. “I had to finish my paper at a cybercafé!”

“And that’s how we became best friends,” Ash concluded and fist bumped Dean while the rest of the group cracked up spectacularly.

“It just gets funnier every time they tell it,” Jo said when she could recover from the laugh attack.

“Yeah, it’s always a good one,” Benny nodded, and turned to Castiel. “Now I wanna hear how you came to meet Broadway.”

“Oh,” Castiel said, taken aback for being the center of attention. “It’s really- it’s not as funny as that…”

“Come on!” Dean encouraged him, while everybody yelled their agreement.

“Well…” Castiel looked at Meg, who was beaming at him. “Well… long story short… she took advantage of me while I was drunk,” he tried to joke.

“Oh, you weren’t  _that_ drunk,” Meg said, with a wink.

“Hey, younger sister here!” Anna reminded them, and everyone seemed to find that hilarious.

“Wait, so  _you_ were the sister who was trying to stare at her to death?” Dean asked. Anna blushed and looked away.

“That was me,” she admitted. “But… I’m over it now!”

“You are?” asked Castiel, astounded.

“Really?” asked Meg, as surprised as him.

“Yeah, we had to form a support group, but we eventually got over of the image of you two having sex,” Anna said, and Castiel wasn’t sure if she was joking. “Balthazar even calls you Megstiel now…”

“Megstiel!” repeated Jo. “I’m  _so_ digging Megstiel!”

Benny was chuckling. “You are not as bad as I thought,” he said, patting Castiel in the back so hard he might as well been trying to break his ribs. “Sorry I scared you.”

“Th-That’s okay,” Castiel offered him a shy smile. “I’m guessing that’s the standard warning to all the guys Meg sees…”

By the expression of fright on Meg’s face, he realized he had said something inappropriate. The rest of the gang looked at him, half solemn, half amused.

“You’re kidding us?” Benny asked. “You’re the first of Meg’s guys we’ve got to meet.”

“She’s always talking about how she met this guy or that guy, but we’ve never actually seen any of them,” Jo explained.

“You’re like a legendary creature, dude,” Ash said.

“Like a unicorn,” Dean pointed. “We are having pizza with a unicorn here, how awesome is that?”

“Oh,” Castiel said, because it was the only thing that came into his mind. He didn’t know how to handle that information. He didn’t know what to make of it. He turned to Meg, but she was looking straight at her empty bottle of beer like she wished it would magically be refilled. Her hand was still on Castiel’s, and suddenly he noticed she was squeezing it harder. “Oh,” he repeated, and he gracelessly tried to joke. “I… never thought of myself as a unicorn.”

“Nice come back,” Dean congratulated him, while the others started giggling softly. Meg raised her head.

“Hold on, are you trying to make him uncomfortable on purpose?” she asked. The giggles became slightly louder. “Oh, you guys are awful! You’re  _awful_ people!”

“Look who’s talking,  _Pennywise_ !” Sam retorted. The night ended in a last explosion of laughter.

 

* * *

 

 

Dean mentioned something about cleaning the mess, and that was about the time everybody started remembering the reasons they had to leave. Sam called a taxi for himself, while Ash and Jo decided to accompany Benny to his hotel (like a guy as big as Benny needed any escort to face the streets of New York). In less than twenty minutes, the only ones left were Meg, Anna and Castiel, and Meg wasn’t feeling exactly generous towards Dean after the unicorn commentary.

“I’ll stay,” Anna offered.

“You can’t stay, you’re our ride,” Castiel pointed.

“You can take the car,” Anna replied.

“What happened to not let it out of your sight?” Meg teased her. If glances could kill, Meg would have probably dropped dead at that exact moment.

“Circumstances change,” Anna muttered.

“How are you getting home?” Castiel wanted to know.

“I can give her a ride in my baby,” Dean said.

“Your…?”

“His car,” Meg explained, and shook her head to prevent him from asking any further.

So Castiel left Anna alone with Dean, which, in Meg’s opinion, was what Anna had been wanting the whole evening.

“Really? You didn’t notice how they were making eyes at each other?” she laughed while they left the Monster’s Den.

“I… assumed my sister wasn’t Dean’s type,” Castiel said. “I mean… she’s neither busty nor Asian.”

“Dean doesn’t really have a type,” Meg clarified. “He accepts whatever fate puts in front of him.”

Castiel had been itching to ask, but didn’t know how, so he used Meg’s metaphor: “So… were you ever in Dean’s fate?”

“I don’t think so,” Meg shrugged, and Castiel’s silence pointed that he was expecting her to elaborate. “When we first met we bonded over music, deadbeat dads and brothers we wanted nothing to do with. Then his dad got sick, and he had to go home. That was about the time I met…”

She stopped, and Castiel knew she had been about to pronounce Bela’s name.

“Anyway,” she continued, after clearing her throat. “By the time we were both single and willing, we realized that ship not only had sailed, it’d also crashed against an iceberg and sank. We could’ve never been anything but friends. He’s got a big brother complex, the same as Benny,” she added.

“And your actual brother?”

Meg turned to him very slowly. “Who said I have a brother?”

“You did,” Castiel pointed. “Just now.”

Meg looked out the window, and just when Castiel realized he had touched a sensitive topic and was about to take the question back, she said: “I hadn’t seen or talked to my brother in years.”

“I-I see,” Castiel swallowed. “Do you… know where he is?”

“Same place he was last time, I expect,” Meg said. “Safely locked away in a cage. In Attica.”

Castiel decided not to keep asking about that. “And you don’t have any other family?”

“Not since Mom passed away,” she said. “Just, you know… the gang. I’m not complaining. They’ve been like family to me in every aspect that matters.”

Castiel opened his mouth to make a comment, but shut it again.

“What?” Meg asked.

“Nothing.”

“Tell me, or I’ll assume is something bad,” she pleaded.

“I was just… thinking,” Castiel stopped the car at a red light, and tried not to smile while he said the next thing: “In every aspect that matters… I just met your family.”

Meg’s expression went from amused to the most absolute horror. “Oh, my God, you did. And I’ve met yours,” she added. “And I’ve hanged out with your kid. And you’ve cooked breakfast for me. Oh, my God…”

“Meg, are you okay?” Castiel asked, because she had suddenly gone pale.

“Does… does this mean we’re in a serious relationship now?” she asked. “Are we dating  _for real_ ? Are you my boyfriend? Are we Megstiel?!”

Castiel was so startled by Meg’s sudden agitation he completely forgot about the semaphore until the car behind them started honking. He found a spot where to park before turning to Meg, who was now hyperventilating.

“Okay, Meg, Meg, calm down,” he said, grabbing her by the shoulders.

“How did this happen?!” she exclaimed. Even thought the question wasn’t directed at anyone in particular, Castiel felt compelled to answer:

“I believe we crossed the line the first time you stayed over.”

“I knew it!” she screamed, hysterically. “I should have never let you snuggle me into that! I should have…!”

Whatever she was about to say, it was lost forever. Castiel hushed her with a kiss.

“Listen to me,” he said. “Nothing has changed, alright? Nothing has to change. I’m really happy with what we have regardless of how we decide to call it.”

Meg still looked terrified, but at least she started breathing normally. “Do we have to start seeing each other more?” she asked.

“Not if we don’t want to,” Castiel replied.

“Do we have to call each other corny things?”

“You could  _never_ be corny.”

“True,” Meg accepted. “Do we have to stop doing all the kinky stuff?”

“God, no,” Castiel suppressed a chuckle. “That’s what you’re worried about?”

Meg stayed quiet for a long while, and when she spoke, she did it very slowly. “I’m worried about many things. Cas, I told you, I don’t want this kind of deal. I just got my life back on track after some really crappy years and more than one terrible relationship. I don’t think I’m ready to share it with somebody just yet. Even if it’s you.”

“I understand,” Castiel nodded. “You know I’m just getting back on my feet myself. But I told you, nothing has to change.”

“Nothing?” Meg asked, her face still filled with anguish.

“Well… I wouldn’t object if I could stop referring to you as ‘not my girlfriend’,” Castiel pointed.

“Girlfriend,” she repeated, like she was weighing the word on her tongue. “I don’t think I’ve been anybody’s girlfriend since I was in high school. Don’t expect me to be very good at it.”

“I think you’re perfect… just being the way you are,” he said, and Meg let out a small smirk.

“You know, you’re not the first one to throw that phrase at me,” she said. “But it’s the first time I actually believe it.”

Castiel had another phrase he would have liked to throw at her, but refrained. He felt like he had made some kind of breakthrough, and he wasn’t going to blow it by saying  _‘I love you’_ too soon.

“So… do you want to get on the backseat and make out?” Meg asked; her smile wider and more playful now.

“Why?” Castiel frowned in confusion.

“Because that’s what boyfriends do with their girlfriends in borrowed cars.”

“Oh, really? I’ve never done that.”

“I keep forgetting,” Meg said, shaking her head. “You’re a unicorn.”


	20. Chapter 20

April brought sunnier and warmer days to the city, and Castiel felt like he could finally put his trench coat away along with all the winter clothing. The weather was a reflection of his mood those days, as things seemed to be finally falling into place.

“Castiel, could you come here a second?” Naomi called him to his office that morning. “I’d like to introduce you to Rebecca Rosen, our new intern,” she said, and Rebecca got to her feet with a smile.

“You can call me Becky, Mr. Abbot,” she said, shaking his hand. She was a lot shorter than Castiel, and had straight, dark blonde hair.

“Oh, please… just Castiel is fine,” he said.

“Rebecca will be working under your direction, Castiel,” Naomi intervened. “A certain degree of formality is required, don’t you believe?”

“My… really?” Castiel was shocked. He’d never had anyone under his charge. He was pretty sure even Charlie had more authority there than he did.

“Right now, you are the designer with more projects to work on, so Rebecca will help you with those,” Naomi continued. “And in exchange, you will show her the ropes of the artistic department in Halos.”

“Oh… okay,” Castiel nodded and smiled at Becky. “I could use a couple of helping hands.”

“I’m your girl, then,” Becky said, bouncing a bit on the tip of her feet. “I’m all help, help, help!”

Castiel led her out of the office, and back to the cubicles where all the designers where drudging on their projects. Before he could start showing her how to work on the computer, the elevator’s door opened and Castiel saw with horror as a familiar figure appeared and sprinted towards him.

“Oh, Carver! Not again!” he exclaimed. “It’s like the fifteenth sketch I’ve made, what is it this time…?”

Instead of answering, Carver threw his arms around Castiel and pulled him close for a fraternal hug so tight Castiel was sure he was trying to choke him.

“You saw it!” Carver screamed from the top of his lungs. “You finally saw it like I saw it! It’s perfect!”

Castiel struggled to get out of his hug, especially when Bela and Zachariah emerged from the office of the latter.

“Excuse me?” Bela asked. “Who might you be?”

“I’m Carver Edlund,” Carver said, releasing Castiel, and offered his hands to Bela. “And you, miss, have a genius working for you. This man is a genius!” he added, pointing at Castiel.

“Thanks,” Castiel said, still catching his breath.

“I don’t want anyone else to draw the cover for my books ever again!” Carver exclaimed. His expression was that of a man profoundly touched.

“Carver, please…” Castiel began to say.

“Of course, Mr. Edlund, if that’s what you desire!” Zachariah said. “Abbot will take care personally of all your future dealings with Halos!”

“Nothing will make me happier. Thank you,” Carver said, at the brink of tears, while Castiel considered the possibility of jumping out the window. He turned to Becky for help, but noticed her eyes where all shiny and the bouncing of her feet had multiplied by ten.

“Mr. Edlund, Mr. Edlund!” she was saying, trying to get the attention of the writer. “Hi, I’m Becky Rosen. I’m your number one fan!” she said, once Edlund actually looked at her.

“And you work with Castiel!” Carver exclaimed, and put a hand over her shoulders. “This is so wonderful! With you by his side, it will certainly take him less than fifteen sketches to reach for the brilliant ideas I always knew he had in him!”

“Smith, who is this lunatic?” Bela whispered to Zachariah.

“He’s one of our most demanding clients,” Zachariah said. “What did you do to impress him so much, Abbot?”

“I have no idea, sir,” Castiel answered, sincerely.

“Well… you keep doing that,” Zachariah said, and patted him in the shoulder before he and Bela went off to wherever they were going before all the fuss.

“To… Becky… with love,” Carver was signing a book Becky had somehow managed to materialize from her bag. “You stay close to this man, Becky. He will teach many wonderful things,” he said, returning the book, and with a last longing look at Castiel, he left.

“This is so awesome!” Becky exclaimed in a high pitch tone. “Do famous writers always show up like this?”

“Nope, just Carver,” Castiel said. He wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry.

 

* * *

 

 

“But that’s a good thing, isn’t it?” Meg said from the bathroom. “I mean, you did impress your boss.”

“Yeah, there aren’t many things that impress Zachariah,” Castiel had to admit. He was sitting on her bed, waiting for her to come out, and making small talk while she prepared a “special surprise” for him.

“How did you end up working there anyway?” Meg asked.

“Why do you ask?” Castiel said, confused.

“Well, I doubt a lot that you woke up one day and said ‘I’m going to be a graphic designer’,” Meg explained.

Castiel smiled sadly. “I wanted to study art,” he confessed. “My dad talked me out of it, said that that wasn’t going to pay my bills. He was right, I’ve never would have made a career out of painting and such…”

“Says who?” Meg asked.

“You’ve never seen any of my drawings.”

“And you’ve never seen me act,” Meg pointed. “Yet you’re so sure I could take Broadway by storm…”

“You could,” Castiel said. “And I  _have_ seen you act… Mistress.”

“Oh, don’t tease me,” Meg replied.

“You’re the one teasing,” Castiel replied. “What are you doing there anyway?”

The door of the bathroom swung open, and Meg emerged wearing a tiny white dress, high heel white sandals, and nurse’s cap with a big red cross on it.

“Why, preparing myself for your examination, Mr. Abbot,” she said, ostentatiously putting on rubber gloves. Castiel stared at her, amazed. “It’s standard procedure.”

“I…” he started, and realized he was about to say he loved her. “I… am most certainly ready for it, Nurse Masters,” he said instead.

“Take off your shirt, then,” Meg instructed. “I need to check your vital signs.”

“Is that an  _actual_ stethoscope?” Castiel asked, half amused, half awed, as he obeyed her hastily.

“Authenticity’s important, don’t you think?” she said, while the cool steel touched Castiel’s skin. “Listen to how fast your heart is beating. You bastard really have a thing for nurses, don’t you? Lay down.”

“Am I sick?” Castiel asked, innocently.

“Oh, yes, very sick indeed, Mr. Abbot,” Meg said, while she opened the drawer of her nightstand and extracted a pair of straps that she used to restrain Castiel’s hands against the bed frame. “But don’t worry about it; I have a special treatment that will make you all better.”

She sat by him on the bed, and started tracing her gloved fingers over his chest while she explained in full detail what they were going to do. As usual, Castiel got excited just by the anticipation of it.

“Are you up for it?” Meg asked afterwards.

“Yes,” Castiel breathed. “That will be… uhm, interesting.”

“Okay,” Meg kissed him on the forehead. “Remember, if you want me to stop, just say red. If you need me to slow down, but not stop, say yellow.”

“And green if I want you to keep going?” Castiel suggested, and Meg smiled, pleased.

“You’re really getting the hang of this, aren’t you?” she said, and Castiel thought he detected a tone of proud in her voice. “Alright, Mr. Abbot. Let’s begin.”

She rummaged further in the drawer and started taking out the toys they were going to use. First, she took off his pants and restrained Castiel’s ankles with a second pair of straps, so now he was spread and naked on the bed. Meg contemplated him like something wasn’t quite right.

“You need to be completely prepared for the treatment, Mr. Abbot,” she said, and started stroking his cock with very light touches, until she brought him into a full erection. “Now we’re talking,” she commented, satisfied.

“You’re not going to blindfold me?” he asked.

“Not this time,” Meg said. “I want you to see exactly what I’m doing.” She picked up what Castiel thought was a silvery chain, until he realized it had tweezers at both ends. He swallowed noisily.

“Isn’t that going to hurt?”

“That’s the point, isn’t it?” Meg replied, with her wickedest smile. Before Castiel had time to prepare himself, she pinched his right nipple with one of the ends. He let out a loud shout that was equally pain and surprise. Meg bit her lips. “You have no idea what it does to me to hear you scream.”

“And then I’m the one who’s sick…” Castiel muttered, but his quip was interrupted by another shout when Meg adjusted the second tweeze to his other nipple.

“Don’t you talk back to me, Mr. Abbot,”·she warned him, severely. “It distracts me from the procedure.”

She started manipulating the screws in the clamps, the pressure decreasing and rising torturously slow, and Castiel could do nothing but keep yelling, and cursing, and moaning at varying volumes. When Meg stopped, Castiel saw that she was all flushed and breathing heavily. She unbuttoned the top of her dress to reveal the lace red bra Castiel was already familiar with.

“I’m telling you,” she said. “I love to hear you scream.”

She kissed him hard on the neck, and picked up her next instrument of torture. Castiel barely saw what it was, only that it was egg shaped and white. He wondered what that was supposed to do.

“This is when things get interesting,” Meg commented, as she tore the plastic wrap around the egg. “How many times should I bring you to the edge? Five? Ten? How much until you’re begging me to let you come?” she wondered, as she manipulated a little tube of lube, pouring a generous amount inside the egg. “What do you think?”

“I… I don’t think it will take you that long,” Castiel answered, sincerely. He felt his body burning and itching, there was a dull pain in his tortured chest, and his wrists were slightly numb. Yet, his arousal was peaking, his cock throbbing agonizingly, aching for Meg’s touch.

“True,” Meg sighed. “Let’s start with three, shall we?”

“Sounds fair,” Castiel said.

Meg smiled, and kissed the tip of his erection before putting the now deformed egg on it, and pulled it down so it would be wrapped tightly around his dick. It wasn’t like anything Castiel had imagined: the lube was warm, and the egg pressed all his already sensitive nerves. Meg squeezed it, and started moving up and down and first, alternating between fast strokes and slower, more circular movements. Castiel arched his back, letting out a loud moan. The sweet stress was building up in his stomach, and he was going to come; he could feel it, the waves preceding his orgasm growing steadily with every movement…

And then, infuriatingly, exasperatingly, Meg stopped altogether. Castiel tried to protest, but he was panting, and all he could offer was a frustrated groan. Meg smiled, and opened another button of her dress.

“Now, now, Mr. Abbot,” she said, playfully. “I warned you this is how it was going to be.”

She stood up and took a few steps away from the bed. Castiel wanted to scream for her to come back, to keep touching him, to give him what he wanted, no,  _needed_ so badly. But he had the feeling that would be counterproductive. Instead, Meg took off her gloves, pulling one finger at a time, deliberately, like it was the most important task in the world and couldn’t be done in a rash.

“Ready for round two?”

Castiel only nodded, because he didn’t trust himself to speak, and once again, Meg took her time. She started massaging his legs, caressing his stomach, playing with the tweezers again before returning to fool around with his erection.

It was maddening. Castiel had never been so hard in his life; his body had never been so tense, so desperate for release. And it didn’t help at all when he noticed Meg was only working him with one hand, while the other was lost up her skirt. The quiet huffs and moans she was letting out pierced through his brain; and now he was dizzy, and mumbling incoherent pleas as he tried to fight against the straps, because,  _dammit_ , he needed it over,  _right now_ .

Meg realized, and immediately stopped touching him. Castiel gritted his teeth, containing a cry of disappointment. If she wasn’t going to give him what he wanted, then he might as well deny it to her too.

“Don’t be bitter, Mr. Abbot,” she said softly. “I’m doing this for your own good.”

She adjusted the tweezers again, pressing him tighter, and Castiel bit his tongue, refusing to please her, refusing to give in to her.

“You’re going to have to speak to me if you want me to know what you want,” she said, relentless. “Come on, let’s hear it.”

And with that, she squeezed Castiel’s balls so hard he was sure he was going to break underneath her fingers. His lungs were burning, the sweat from his forehead was dripping inside his eyes, blinding him, and his heart was about to jump out of his chest. All he could do was open his mouth and scream, scream so loud he barely recognized his own voice. He screamed the only word he could find inside his adrenaline filled brain.

“What was that?” Meg asked, and he could hear the cruel laughter in her voice. “What did you say?”

“Please!” Castiel begged again. “Please, please…!”

“Alright, then,” Meg said, chuckling. “Since you ask so nicely…”

Her hand was over his cock again, pumping him roughly, no teasing this time; and Castiel could feel his whole body shivering, craving, the blood pulsing in his ears, his skin on fire…

And with another cry, he exploded in Meg’s hand, the most exquisite, and tremendous pleasure saturating his thoughts. He laid, limpid and breathless, staring at Meg’s roof, his mind gloriously blank. He almost didn’t notice when she untied him and kissed him on the cheek.

“How do you feel now, Mr. Abbot?”

“Better,” he muttered, hiding his face on her chest.

 

* * *

 

 

“Can I ask you something?”

“Mmmh?” Meg opened her eyes, drowsily.

She was still wearing the nurse dress, completely ruffled and unbuttoned now, but the cap was lying somewhere on the floor, along with her shoes and the stethoscope. Castiel had cleaned himself before coming back to bed for what Meg called a “hardcore cuddling session”, which had involved a lot of aggressive kissing and touching until they were both satisfied again.

“That egg thing… what was that?” Castiel asked, genuinely intrigued.

“It’s called a Tenga egg,” Meg explained. “It was designed by very original Japanese people for the purpose of giving more enjoyable hand jobs.”

“Well, mission accomplished,” Castiel said, and Meg laughed softly.

“Why, you liked that?” she asked, leaning on one elbow. “I have five more of those, if you want to repeat. But I’m warning you: I went easy on you because it was your first time edging. I won’t be so nice in the future.”

“Oh, that was you being nice?” Castiel said, amused. “Remind me never to get on your bad side.”

“If you were on my bad side, I wouldn’t do any of this stuff with you,” Meg shrugged.

“And that would be punishment enough,” Castiel chuckled.

Meg gave him a friendly push on the shoulder, and then rolled to kiss him. Castiel was thinking about starting another “cuddling session” when Meg’s cell phone started ringing. They both grimaced.

“I hate that alarm,” Castiel commented, while Meg turned it off. “Do you have to go so early?”

“I’ve told you, transportation issues,” Meg sighed, sitting on the bed. “I have to wait for the bus and then…”

“Why don’t you let me drive you?” Castiel proposed. Meg froze on her spot for a moment, before turning to stare at Castiel with that horrified look he knew it meant he had just taken another step further into the dangerous territory of serious relationship. He hurriedly began making excuses. “I mean, I have my car right here. I don’t mind, really…”

“You never offered to drive me before,” she pointed.

“I didn’t think you would accept,” Castiel said, which was true.

“You said nothing had to change,” Meg reminded him.

“Yes, I did say that,” he recognized. He stood up, and started picking up his clothes.

“Okay, now you’re mad,” she deduced.

“No, I’m not,” Castiel lied, and by Meg’s expression, he realized he hadn’t done it very well. He started getting dressed in silence, not sure how to express what the problem was, but Meg seemed to have understood. She took a long breath before saying:

“I’m sorry. I just don’t want you to feel like you have some kind of obligation towards me or…”

“That’s not… Meg, I don’t…” he stopped, and searched for the words to explain why he needed to look after her so badly. Of course, he already knew the words. But he also knew she wasn’t ready to hear them yet, so he chose a lighter version of them: “I care about you. I do, really. And I want to show that, I  _want_ to do it. Not because I have to, I just…” he stopped, not knowing if it was safe to continue. Meg was staring at him, immobile and with an unreadable expression. “Would you  _please_ let me do this for you?” Castiel asked.

Meg seemed to snap out of whatever she was thinking, and looked up at him. For a moment, he was sure she was going to refuse.

“Alright,” she said. She stood up and left a peck on his cheek. “Gimme fifteen minutes.”


	21. Chapter 21

The thing was; Meg actually liked using public transportation. There was certain romanticism about it.

She liked being stuck with a bunch of strangers, trying to imagine the story of their lives, wondering where were they going, where they came from, what was going through their minds while they stared out the window, read their books or played with their phones, what kind of music was coming out of their earphones. She liked picking up a mannerism here, a word there, little things to help her incorporate a sense of realism in her acting. Sometimes she stroked up a conversation with someone, and even when she was rebuffed, she could always say she’d learned something from the experience.

That’s why she had been refusing to get a car for years. That’s why she never let Dean picked her up in his “baby”. That’s why she stubbornly insisted in moving through the city by bus.

She explained that to Castiel the best she could; and he seemed to understand.

“It’s like when I go to the park to sit on a bench to look for new forms and shapes, to learn to draw better,” he said.

“You do that?” Meg asked, and Castiel shuffled in his seat.

“Well, I used to. I would spend hours on it. I haven’t done it in a while.”

“Why not?”

“You know… life,” Castiel shrugged, like that was sufficient explanation to everything.

Meg stayed quiet for a moment.

“We are more alike than I thought,” she said. Castiel glanced at her, without understanding, so Meg explained: “We’ve both let ‘ _life_ ’ get in the way of pursuing our dreams.”

“No, that’s not…” Castiel tried to argue, but realized she was at least partially right. “Okay, maybe. But you’re young. You could still have an acting career, you know.”

Meg sneered. “I’m only six years younger than you.”

“Six years ago, I became a father,” Castiel pointed. “Having another human being to care for makes you grow quite fast. Makes you realize that you can’t let  _‘dreams’_ get in the way of ‘ _life_ ’ either.”

“Do you regret it?” she asked.

“Oh, God, never. Claire’s the joy of my life,” Castiel stated. “And I didn’t give up my dreams; I just… put them on hold.”

“Yeah, indefinitely,” Meg said. “And then they wonder why I think you can’t have it all.”

And in that quite bitter note, they arrived to the Monster’s Den. Meg reached for the handle, but noticed Castiel wasn’t moving.

“You  _can_ have it all,” he said, in a reflective tone. Meg didn’t know if he meant her, specifically, or just in general, but it didn’t matter because she didn’t agree with him.

“I used to think that, too,” she said, with a sad smile.

“But it’s true,” Castiel insisted. “You can have a family, and the career you dream about, and a good relationship. Just because we still hadn’t found a way to do it, it doesn’t mean it’s impossible.”

Meg frowned. “I didn’t take you for an idealist, Cas.”

“I’m… optimistic,” Castiel shrugged.

“That you are,” she said, chortling. “Doesn’t make you less wrong.”

“Prove me wrong,” Castiel defied her.

“Oh? And how am I supposed to do that?” Meg asked, amused.

“Let’s try,” Castiel said. “Let’s try to have it all. I’ll start drawing again, and you’ll start auditioning. And we’ll see where that takes us.”

For a moment, Meg wondered if Castiel was joking, but he was always transparent as cellophane, and right now, he was dead serious. She considered telling him that that was crazy, and that it still wouldn’t prove a damn thing, but then again, she had always been up for a good challenge.

“Okay,” she agreed. “I actually want to find out how that works out.”

Castiel offered her one of those rare wide, cheerful smiles of his. Castiel usually had a shy smirk, or a courteous beam, like he couldn’t bring himself to show all of his happiness at once, or maybe he didn’t have that much happiness to begin with, but Meg had seen his full-blown smile before. It was the smile he had when Claire said something funny, or when his favorite Louis Armstrong song started to play, or when the pancakes landed on the fry pan impeccably.

In Meg’s opinion, that smile didn’t show up quite enough, which was a shame since it made him look younger and cuter, and all around sexy. Like he needed to be more any more attractive.

And she was out of control when she saw that smile. Right now, her hands had acted on their own, pulling Castiel’s blue tie to bring him closer for what meant to be a playful kiss, but had somehow ended with her sat on his lap, her back pressing against the wheel and his fingers buried in her hair.

“Aren’t you going to be late?” Castiel asked between breaths.

“Dean will live,” Meg said. Letting Castiel drive her to work had its perks after all.

 

* * *

 

 

Castiel was pretty sure Dean would have lived just fine if they had taken five minutes more. In fact, he was sure everyone involved in what happened next would have lived absolutely fine if it wasn’t for his own insistence in the importance of punctuality.

But then, Meg had invited Castiel for a beer on the house as thanks for driving her, and Castiel actually wanted to spend some more time with her. And with Dean, too. Dean was a cool guy, flirting with his sister notwithstanding.

Later on, he had trouble remembering what they were saying. He was pretty sure Meg had made a joke, because he was laughing, but couldn’t for the life of him say what the joke was about. They walked into the bar, hand in hand, and Meg screamed “Hey, Winchester!” without even looking inside first. Castiel raised his head to repeat the greeting…

… just in time to catch sight of the naked back of a red-head woman, pressing her clothes against her chest and dashing to hide inside the bar’s bathroom. Dean stared at them, standing awkwardly next to the pool table, hastily manipulating his jeans.

It would have been embarrassing even if Castile hadn’t recognized the woman. As it was, it suddenly just made sense why Anna disliked Meg so much.

 

* * *

 

 

Meg was the first to react, and of course, she did it in her usual cheeky, nonchalant way:

“Pool table sex!” she said, snapping her fingers. “Why didn’t I think of that?”

Both Castiel and Dean turned to look at her like they couldn’t believe she was actually joking about it. She beamed at them both, ignoring the raging expression on Castiel’s face, and how Dean seemed to have turned into a squirrel looking for the closest escape.

“Woah, you guys are going to have a testosterone duel or something?” Meg asked. “Come on now, don’t be ridiculous! Let’s act like adults and laugh about this.”

Castiel, who had been clenching his fist and thinking about how good it would feel to stomp them against Dean’s face, relaxed a bit when he realized she was right: that was a ridiculous reaction. That didn’t stop him from wanting to do it, though. Dean seemed to understand. He took a step towards them and stood before Castiel with an awkward smile.

“Bring it on, dude,” he said, offering his left cheek.

Castiel gritted his fist so hard his nails jabbed against his skin.

“No,” he said, after taking a deep breath.

“No, no, I deserve it,” Dean insisted.

Castiel forced himself to untighten his hands and raised a finger. “I will not hit you, Dean,” he said, although he didn’t sound very convincing.

“I won’t be mad, I promise,” Dean said. “And if you want to throw in a couple of death threats for good measure, I’m fine with that too.”

“No, no, Meg is right. We are all adults. My sister is a grown up woman, and she’s perfectly capable of choosing who she… sleeps with,” said Castiel, almost choking on those last two words, because in his mind, Anna was still a virginal twelve-year-old in a white flower dress. “And she’s also perfectly capable of making her own death threats,” he added, because he remembered that one time she had given both Gabriel and Balthazar a bloody nose for making fun of her dress.

“Okay then,” Dean said, looking a bit too relaxed for Castiel’s taste.

“However, I will be more than happy to help her get rid of your lifeless body if it comes to that,” he added.

“Fair enough,” Dean accepted.

“Oh, look at you boys, being all mature and kind!” Meg intervened, putting a hand on each of their shoulders. “Right. I’m gonna go see if dear Anna needs any help.”

She passed swiftly by the pool table; and Castiel saw her pick something up from the floor. He refused to acknowledge it was a white bra.

“Can I offer you a drink?” Dean asked.

“Do you have brain bleach?”

Dean didn’t have brain bleach, but he had beer, and that was almost as good.

 

* * *

 

 

It took Anna two minutes to get dressed, but around twenty to gather up the nerve to come out of the bathroom and face her brother. During all that time, Castiel and Dean were silently drinking by the counter, while Meg was in the bathroom with her. Castiel never found out what they told each other, but when they came out, Anna seemed almost relaxed, and even attempted a shy smile. Her brother had long decided he was going to act like he hadn’t seen anything.

“Hi, Anna,” he said, standing up.

“Hi, Cas,” she answered. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“I was just dropping off Meg,” Castiel shrugged. “Do you want me to take you home?”

“I’d appreciate that, yes,” Anna said.

Castiel stood up and kissed Meg goodbye, while Anna and Dean did the same thing.

“So, you’ll pick me up at four next Saturday?” Anna asked.

“Yes, of course,” Dean nodded. “My mom’s really excited to meet you.”

And with one last smile and general waving, the Abbots were off.

“Shut up, Meg,” Dean said, as soon as the door closed behind them. Meg, who was biting her lips trying to hold in the chuckles, made the sign of zipping her mouth shut.

“So… next Saturday,” she said after she and Dean had prepared the bar for the night to come. “Isn’t that when Sam and Jess are having their… thing?”

“Oh, yeah,  _that_ ,” Dean shrugged and avoided her gaze. “You don’t have to be my plus one anymore.”

“Oh, really?” Meg said, putting her hands dramatically over her chest. “But I’ve already got a fancy dress and everything! You’re breaking my heart, Dean Winchester!”

“Oh, please, I bet you thought that if you waited long enough I’d find someone else to go with,” Dean rolled his eyes.

“Was I wrong?” Meg laughed.

Dean changed the topic.

“What was Trench Coat doing here anyway?”

“You heard him, he was dropping me off,” Meg said. “Because, get this… I have a  _boyfriend_ who  _cares a lot_ about me.”

She didn’t mean it to sound like she was gloating, but the minute the words came out of her mouth, she realized that was exactly how they sounded. And it didn’t matter. Because she was actually dating the best guy in the planet, and she deserved some bragging rights, didn’t she? She imagined the size of her grin was directly proportional to Dean’s surprise.

“Woah, that’s… he didn’t say the L word, did he?” he asked.

“Nope. But it was kind of implied,” Meg admitted. She was still grinning, and God, she didn’t think she could ever stop.

“And you didn’t run away screaming?” Dean whistled. “Megan Masters, you really  _are_ dating a unicorn.”

“Don’t mock my unicorn, Mr. My-Mom-Is-Excited-To-Meet-You,” she teased him. “Since when do you take girls to meet your mom?”

Dean opened his arms and raised his eyes in defeat. “What is it about these Abbots? I swear; you can’t help but to love them…”

“I know!” Meg shook her head. “We’re fucked!”

“We’re totally fucked,” Dean agreed.

The first client that came into the Monster’s Den that night found them laughing themselves to tears at a joke nobody else could have understood.

 

* * *

 

 

The first few seconds of the trip towards Anna’s place passed in the most absolute silence. Then, Castiel cleared his throat and Anna grimaced, like she was bracing herself for a scold.

“So…” Castiel began.

“So?” Anna said.

“… you and Dean,” Castiel said.

“That’s right,” Anna said. “For some weeks now.”

“And you didn’t tell me because…?”

“I was waiting for the right moment to bring it up,” Anna shrugged, fully aware that it sounded like a cheap excuse.

“Okay,” Castiel accepted. “And, uh… how’s that going?”

Castiel expected Anna to give him a coy, short answer about how well things were so they could move on to another topic; so he was startled when Anna hit her head against the window and exclaimed in a high pitch tone:

“I don’t know!”

As her brother seemed to be lost for words, Anna continued: “Dean is really funny, and has great taste in music, and he is, you know… a beast in bed…”

“That’s oversharing, Anna,” Castiel muttered, uncomfortable. He actually was more hung up on the detail that his sister, the freaking music teacher, considered Dean’s taste in music as ‘great’.

“This was supposed to be just some fun times,” Anna kept going, like she hadn’t heard what Castiel said. “And now I’m going to his brother’s wedding to meet his mother this Saturday!”

“I take it that’s a bad thing?” Castiel asked, unsure of how to react or how to offer support.

“I think we’re going too fast,” Anna concluded, and at this point, Castiel wasn’t sure whether she was talking to him or to herself. “Are we going too fast?”

“You’re asking  _me_ ?”

“Right, you wouldn’t know a normal-paced relationship if it hit you in the face,” Anna conceded, and although a bit offended, Castiel had to admit she had a point. “I just… I don’t… I mean, I like Dean. A lot. It’s just…” she shook her head. “Maybe I’m overthinking it. I should stop thinking, right? Just… seize the moment.”

“Sounds like a good idea,” Castiel conceded.

“Thanks, Cas. Great talk,” Anna said, obviously more relieved. Castiel wasn’t sure what exactly he had said, but he nodded nonetheless. “And… well, thank Meg for me when you see her. She was really helpful today, and… I gotta say I might have misjudged her.”

Castiel forgot he was supposed to be looking at the street and turned his head to stare at Anna. “Who are you, and what did you do to Anna?” he asked.

“Oh, shut up, it’s just… Dean has told me some things about her,” Anna said, sinking in her seat. She hated to admit when she was wrong, so Castiel didn’t rush her. “She’s been through some stuff, you know, with her brother and everything…”

“Yes, I know…”

“Seriously, this jerk sounds like what Gabriel would call a great big bag of dicks,” Anna commented. “I’m never complaining about any of you guys again.”

“It’s a good thing that none of us has ever done anything that would land us in jail,” Castiel accepted. “Although Balthazar and Gabriel might have dithered on the line a few times…”

“They’d never killed anyone,” Anna pointed.

Castiel hit the breaks so abruptly the tires screeched against the pavement. The car speeding next to them honked in protest, but he didn’t care.

“Come again?” he asked.

“She didn’t tell you?” Anna asked, with her eyes opened wide. “That’s why he’s in Attica. He was some sort of big shot drug lord… they charged with five murders, and those are the ones they could prove. Everyone was terrified of him. They even called him ‘Lucifer’.”

“Oh,” Castiel managed to articulate.

“Oh, God,” Anna said, finally realizing she’d just freaked her brother out. “Don’t tell her I told you. She probably didn’t want you to know.”

“No, no, I’m glad I know,” Castiel said, even though that statement was betrayed by how tight he was gripping the wheel. “I’m dating Lucifer’s sister. That’s… that’s bound to upset Michael and Raphael.”

Anna took some seconds to appreciate the irony, and then let out a soft nervous giggle. “I guess it is.”

Castiel parked in front of Anna’s building, and let out a puff. His sister leaned over to his seat, and gave him a hug.

“Thank you again for not being all… well, me, about this whole thing with Dean,” Anna said. “We’re even now, right?”

“Yeah, I suppose,” Castiel smiled, thinking they wouldn’t be even until he had told Gabriel and Balthazar about it.

But of course, he wouldn’t do that to his little sister.

Maybe.


	22. Chapter 22

“Alright, class, let’s give ourselves a great applause!”

All the students put their hands together, some even move to hug their closest friends. Meg just gave a couple of half-heartedly claps before turning to look for her bag. She wanted to be out of there as fast as she could, she wanted to call Castiel and maybe…

“Megan, dear,” Crowley called her. “Can I talk to you for a second?”

Ferguson Crowley was the titular teacher of Meg’s class at the Acting Academy, while Meg was the associate teacher, which meant she supposedly had as much power and deserved as much respect as him, but whenever the famous Scottish Shakespearian actor and director walked into the room, everybody instantly forgot about her. Even Crowley himself seemed to think she was little more than a glorified assistant, as he kept leaving all the paper work to her and sending her to get him coffee. After two years of putting up with that crap, Meg had developed a certain dislike for the man. Not to say she hated his guts with a fiery passion.

“Yes, Mr. Crowley?” she said, trying to put on a smile. He was still her boss, after all.

“Some good friends had told me they saw you at their auditions,” Crowley commented, with a polite tone Meg didn’t trust at all. “Are you planning on leaving the Academy, Megan? ‘Cause that would be our loss.”

_‘Yeah, you’ll have to train another poor deluded beginner to get your coffee right,’_ Meg thought.

“I love my job, Mr. Crowley,” she lied. She was an actress after all. “But I… wanted to see if I could have, you know, broader horizons in my career.”

Crowley’s eyes travelled from her face to her feet, and back to her face, like he was sizing her up.

“Walk with me, Megan,” he said, and they both started moving towards the exit of the Academy. “I have to be honest with you. You’re a very pretty girl…”

“Why, thanks…”

“… but a pretty face can only take you so far,” Crowley continued. Meg resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “You have a certain amount of talent, but you’re still a bit rough around the edges, if you get my drift.”

“I lack practical experience, I know,” Meg sighed. “That is what I’m trying to gain by going to these auditions.”

“Ah, but since you lack the experience, you may never get a chance in those auditions,” Crowley pointed. “And since they won’t give you a chance, you will forever lack the experience. You see the predicament.”

“I might catch a break,” Meg said, thinking how much Crowley’s accent irritated her.

“Or… you might use your contacts so they’ll give you a hand,” Crowley said. They were almost at the door now. Meg gave him another uncompromised smile.

“I’m not much for asking favors,” she said.

“I know. The modern, independent girl who’s too proud to ask the knight in shining armor to save her, even if the dragon is about to eat her,” Crowley chuckled, and Meg chuckled with him, imagining how good it would feel to knock out some of those perfectly white teeth with a well-placed punch. “You’ve chosen a rather difficult role to play, dear.”

“I can handle it,” Meg shrugged.

“Ah, but you’ll never save yourself without a well-placed  _deus ex machina_ ,” Crowley said, and searched inside the pockets of his perfectly tailored suit to pull out a business card. “And I happen to have one right here. My dear friend Mervin Tron (I’m sure you’ve heard of him) is preparing a new play based in an old movie. I know you liked those.”

“What movie?” Meg asked, not daring to reach out for the card.

“Are you going to question the  _deus ex machina_ ?” Crowley arched an eyebrow. “If you need to know, it’s a little one that was a great hit back in the thirties… Mae West and Cary Grant were on it, if I remember correctly…”

Meg took the card and read the title of the play, and almost wanted to laugh at the irony. “ _I’m no angel._ ”

“I’ve told Merv you’d do dear Tira justice on the stage,” Crowley said. “He’s waiting for your call. If you ever want to rise up to Mae’s level, that is.”

“Mr. Crowley, I don’t… I mean, I didn’t…” she stopped stuttering and looked him in the face. Her smile was honest this time. “Thank you.”

Maybe he wasn’t such a mean little man as she thought.

“One day, Megan, you might even be worthy of working by my side,” Crowley said. “Although I doubt it very much. Good afternoon.”

And he walked away as Meg thought she had started to change her mind way too soon.

 

* * *

 

 

Jo called her when she was half-way to her apartment, and interrupted a very interesting chat with a gardener that got off on the next stop anyway.

“Can you believe these guys?!” her friend shouted on Meg’s ear.

She cursed and swore, and every one of her words seemed to be punctuated by a bark or a meow. Meg could imagine her in her white robe, taking one last good look around the animal’s refuge she worked at.

“… and then Dean said ‘ _It’s a guys’ thing, Jo,’_ ” she complained, at the same time that what sounded like a big dog barked for her attention.

“They’ll probably just hit a few strip-clubs,” Meg said, trying to calm her down, as the bus stopped at her usual corner. “I didn’t know you were into that, beautiful. Should I be jealous?”

“Oh, baby, you know you’re the only one for me,” Jo said. “But I still consider it offensive I was not invited to Sam’s bachelor party just because I’m a girl.”

“You can party as hard as any guy,” Meg agreed, struggling to find her keys inside her bag.

“I can party harder!” Jo affirmed. “We should go out this Friday and prove it.”

“Are you suggesting a girls’ night out?” Meg couldn’t help but to smile. They hadn’t done that in a while. “But wait, we’re supposed to open the Den this Friday…”

“So? The boss will be out being a good best man and making sure Sam has the mother of all hangovers at the wedding,” Jo reminded her. “He won’t even notice.”

“I like how you think,” Meg chuckled. “Alright then. You and I are going out to kill it until the dance floor is a bloody mess.”

“I love it when you talk dirty,” Jo laughed.

 

* * *

 

 

There was a tiny little detail Meg hadn’t taken into account while making plans with Jo.

“Oh,” Castiel said when she called him, and although he tried, he couldn’t hide the disappointment in his voice. “I… was really hoping to see you.”

“We’ll still meet on Saturday,” Meg pointed.

“Yes… Claire is excited to watch  _Chitty Chitty Bang Bang_ with you,” Castiel said.

Meg closed her eyes. “I forgot the kid was going to be there,” she said. “Well… we can still have our fun once Amelia picks her up…”

“She’s staying over,” Castiel clarified.

Meg felt like hitting her head against the table, suddenly realizing what Castiel was saying: there’d no sexy times for them that week. They had been texting and talking occasionally, but the big event was always on weekends. And she had a whole scenario planned out!

“Meg? Look, I don’t mind. I understand you want to go out with your friend and…”

“ _I_ mind,” Meg interrupted him. “I miss my Clarence!”

There was a silence at the other end, and Castiel’s voice dropped a bit when he said: “I miss you too, Mistress.”

“Did I ever tell you how sexy your voice is?” Meg asked. It was true: Castiel had a deep, croaky voice that sent shivers down her spine when he groaned her name. And other things, too. Suddenly, Meg had an idea. “I want you to something for me, Clarence.”

She stood up and went to her room, while Castiel said: “Anything, Mistress…”

Meg opened her underwear drawer, and instantly found what she was looking for: her most-trusted lover and best friend, her vibrator. She held the phone between her head and her shoulder while she searched for the batteries.

“I want you to go to your room,” she instructed him, moving the switch to be rewarded with a light shake. “And I want you to take off your clothes. And I want you to jerk off while you tell me all the things you’d do if I were there with you.”

“What… right now?” Castiel asked. Meg chuckled while she got rid of her jeans and her panties.

“Do you have anything else to do, Clarence?” she asked. “Don’t you want to have long… in-depth talk with Mistress?” she made sure to moan softly at the end of that phrase. She wasn’t faking it. She was slightly aroused already. Whether Castiel agreed or not to the exercise, she was going to entertain herself. “Don’t you want to please me?”

“Yes,” Castiel said, and Meg could practically see the flush in his cheeks. “Yes… I always want to please you, Mistress.”

“That’s a good boy,” Meg said, while she opened her wardrobe door wide, so the full-body mirror she had hanging inside would be visible from the bed. “Tell me how you will please me, Clarence,” she ordered, as she sat on the bed and spread her legs.

“I will… I will get on my knees, because I know you like that…” Castiel started, hesitating, unsure.

He always hesitated at first, but once Meg had hit the right spot, said the right word, hell, even smiled at him the right way; he would melt in his hands like he was clay, and she could do whatever she wanted with him, mold him into her perfect lover, her perfect slave.

And oh, God, the things she would do to him. She wanted to attack him with all her might; she wanted to leave him so sore he couldn’t move for days without thinking of her. She wanted to lick him and bite him all over so hard he got bruised, mark him so everyone would know he belonged to her. She wanted to hear him screaming her name and pleading for mercy until he hurt his throat.

“Mistress…” Castiel panted, and only then Meg realized she had been expressing those thoughts out loud.

She touched herself to find she was all wet and sensitive and ready. This would be the moment she’d chose to jump on top of Castiel (she was always on top, they both liked it that way), and ride him, use him selfishly as her own personal plaything, watching him arch his back and bite his lips and put his hands on her hips or on her breasts to accompany each one of her movements.

But, alas, Castiel wasn’t there. All she had was a cold, disembodied toy with the form of a dick, and his voice on the phone. Frustration hit Meg’s brain so hard she shivered, and not because of the pleasure.

She applied the tip of the vibrator against her clit, letting it massage her and send waves of gratifying electricity all through her while she closed her eyes and focused on what Castiel was saying, about how much he needed to touch her, how much he wanted her to grab his wrists above his head like she sometimes did, how much he desired to bury her face between her legs and lick her cunt until she exploded…

Meg gave out an incredulous laugh. “Where did you learn that kind of language, Clarence?” she asked, feigning outrage.

“I… I’ve been… investigating,” Castiel admitted, with a note of shame in his voice.

“Well, A plus for you,” Meg congratulated him.

She rocked her hips against the vibrator, stimulating the inside of her pussy now, still talking to Castiel, still reveling in his whimpers and curses and fantasies, still missing his warmth beneath her, his bright blue eyes that would seem almost black now in the midst of his arousal, his chapped, swollen lips opened in a perfect O to match those almost pornographic sounds coming out of him.

And now she was screaming, but it wasn’t right.

She was sweating, but it wasn’t exciting.

She was coming, but it wasn’t enough.

She wanted her Clarence.

She needed Castiel.

The realization dawned on her as she listened to him moan loudly one last time, as she herself felt all the tension of her body getting released in one mildly-intensive orgasm that didn’t left her as content as she would have liked.

No, no, no. She had done this phone sex thing with other partners before, and it had always been good, because she only had to take care of herself, because she didn’t have to stay in control all the time like she did when she was in Mistress Mode; and it had been awesome. And although this time hadn’t been bad (orgasms are like pizza, she thought, even when they’re bad, they’re pretty good), it just wasn’t all that.

What had gone wrong?

She turned off the vibrator and listened to the soothing sound of Castiel’s heavy breathing at the other side of the line. There was something completely unfitting about hearing it, but not  _feeling_ it on her neck, on her ear, on her hair. She nuzzled her pillows, and convinced herself it hadn’t been that good because it was an impromptu replacement for the real thing.

It had nothing to do with the fact that she desperately wanted to cuddle with him now. She wasn’t a clingy girlfriend, dammit.

“Cas?” she inquired after a while.

“Y-Yes?” he asked, his voice still trembling. He obviously had enjoyed it much more than she had.

“Would it… would it bother you terribly if I drop by your place this Tuesday?” she asked. “And… maybe every Tuesday from now on in addition to our weekend date?”

If she could, she would have punched herself for how  _clingy_ she’d just sounded.

“It wouldn’t bother me at all,” Castiel said. Meg could feel the smirk in his voice, and regretted again that she was missing it. “Would you freak out if I bring up the idea of you staying over for the whole weekend again?”

“No,” Meg said. “On second thought, that’s actually not that bad of an idea as it seemed at first. As long as you’re willing to get up at two in the morning to pick me up from the bar…”

“Or… maybe I could just give you a key,” he suggested, and when Meg didn’t answer, he tried to joke about it: “I’m pretty sure you’re not going to move in while I’m at work.”

“Key it is,” Meg accepted, struggling to get the words out. It was true, they weren’t moving in together, but she still felt like they were taking a huge step. She didn’t want to think in what direction just yet, because if she did, she would probably have a panic attack.

“Meg?” Thankfully, Castiel cut off that line of thinking. “I’m… glad we talked.”

“Yes. Me too.”

After they hung up, Meg slid naked under the covers to take a nap. She did her best to ignore how cold her bed felt without him there.

She failed miserably.


	23. Chapter 23

When Jo said she wanted to party hard, she wasn’t kidding.

They were at the third club she and Meg had visited that night, because the guys at the first club were “too creepy”, and the music at the second one was “too lousy”. But now they had finally settled, and were dancing the night away. Jo twirled and swayed like she wasn’t wearing stilettos and a mini-skirt so tight Meg had considered polite to ask her if the blood on her legs was still circulating. Jo’s answer was to laugh and lead her to the middle of the dance floor, where the combination of strobe lights, loud rhythmic music and a sea of moving bodies had Meg sweating so bad she thought she might be suffering a light case of dehydration.

“I need a drink!” she screamed at Jo. Her friend just nodded, and continued shaking her hips and raising her arms, obviously trying to call the attention of a cute guy dancing next to them. Meg had the impression she was succeeding.

Meg elbowed her way through the crowd, until she reached the bar. She’d already had a couple of shots at the other clubs, but she could still feel her shoes constricting her feet painfully, and that just couldn’t be.

“A cold beer!” she ordered.

“Good idea! Another one for me!” a familiar voice next to her said. She turned around.

“Balthazar!” she exclaimed, with a smile.

“Hello, darling!” he said, kissing her on the cheek.

Her boyfriend’s brother was wearing black jeans and a leather jacket she recognized as the one Castiel had at the New Year’s Eve party. His hair was damped because of the sweat and his eyes were glistening from the alcohol.

“What are you doing here?”

“I’m with my friend Jo!” Meg answered, and swept the dance floor with her eyes. Jo’s blonde hair was nowhere to be found. “What about you?”

“I’m making sure Gabe doesn’t get in trouble!” Balthazar rolled his eyes. “But apparently, I’ve lost him! Well, he’ll be back when he’s hungry…”

He hadn’t finished saying it when both Jo and Gabriel approached them, laughing and holding each other by the waist.

“I thought I saw you sneaking away!” Gabriel told Meg, and only then she recognized him as the cute guy Jo had been dancing next to.

“Meg, you bitch!” Jo laughed, and gave her a friendly push. “You didn’t tell me Castiel’s brothers were as good-looking as he is!”

“And we are ten times funnier!” Gabriel stated. “What you drinking? Beer? BORING! Bartender, four shots of tequila! Let’s see who gets to the worm first!”

Meg’s last coherent thought was that Dean would have thrown a fit, as he had explained her many times tequila was not the drink that contained a worm, but that would have been splitting hairs.

And then, after the second round of tequila shots, everything got kinda fuzzy.

She was vaguely aware that Gabriel was openly and shamelessly hitting on Jo; then Balthazar told a joke, and they were all laughing wholeheartedly, and drinking a little more. Her shoes weren’t bothering her anymore, probably because she no longer felt her feet, since her head was light and floating, detached from the rest of her body.

She had danced a little more, but the room started spinning, so she decided it was safer to stop drinking and just stay by the bar and listen to Balthazar’s stories before she made a fool of herself. However, she was drunk enough to find it hilarious when Gabriel volunteered for a kegstands contest, and counted the seconds he endured along with the rest of the crowd. To no one’s surprise, he won, and after loudly declaring himself King of the Dance Floor, he invited Jo to stand with him at the counter, and they both started dancing so frantically Meg could barely follow their movements.

And suddenly it just occurred to her it was a shame Castiel wasn’t there, that the guy was probably alone in his apartment missing the sight of his brother’s right foot getting stomp on by one of Jo’s stilettos, and Gabriel waving his arms like a headless chicken and falling spectacularly on top of Balthazar, dragging Jo with him. Seriously, how was she going to explain him what a fantastic night this was turning out to be? He had to come and see it by himself!

She walked away a little, fishing her cellphone from the depths of her small purse, and tried to type a text before realizing her fingers were not coordinating correctly, so she decided it was best just to call him.

He picked up after the fourth ring.

“Meg? What…?”

“Hey!” Meg said, an incontrollable giggle coming up her throat at how groggy his voice sounded. “Did I wake you?”

“What… what now?” Castiel stuttered. “It’s three in the morning… what… what is it?”

“You need to come here!” Meg screamed, partly to finish to wake Castiel up, partly to hear herself on top of the music. “Gabe and Jo are dancing on the counter, and it’s awesome!”

“What? Gabe? You’re with Gabriel?” Castiel articulated, confused.

“Yeah, and Balthazar’s here too!” Meg added, turning to her group. Balthazar was walking towards her, holding his hand against his body. “We’re having a really good time! Hold-hold on, I think he wants to talk to you!” she added when she understood the mimics he was making, and handed him the phone.

“Cas! Thank God! You have to pick us up!” he said.

He mentioned something about a bouncer threatening to kick them out, and his wrist being twisted, and everybody being too drunk to drive or get a cab safely. Meg didn’t quite catch all of it, because at the mention that they might get kicked out, she turned around and noticed Gabriel and Jo arguing loudly with a guy at least as tall as Sam, probably stronger. It was hard to tell who was yelling the loudest.

“You got that? Yeah, get your ass here ASAP!” Balthazar returned her phone and went to try to get Gabriel away from the bouncer.

“Meg?” Castiel’s voice called her from the phone.

“Yeah, hi,” Meg said, putting it back to her ear. “I don’t know what’s going on… wait, Jo just punched a guy… yeah, I think we need you to pick us up,” she said, worried, as the crowd had closed around her group and now she couldn’t see anything.

“I’m on my way,” Castiel said. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Meg said, distracted, still trying to catch a glimpse of her friend or his boyfriend’s brothers. “I… I think I’m drunk,” she admitted.

“I figured that much,” Castiel sighed. “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes, okay?”

“Okay,” Meg repeated, not really paying attention. “I love you, bye.”

She closed her cellphone and put it back on her purse, and only then she realized she had said something she wasn’t supposed to say, but the alcoholic fog on her brain prevented her from recalling exactly what it was. And then she thought she should be helping Balthazar, who was half-accompanying, half-dragging Jo to the door, while the enormous bouncer (now with a black eye) did the same with Gabriel, so she joined them, and put an arm around Jo’s shoulders.

“There’s more where that came from!” her friend was slurring at the bouncer. “Meg! You and I can take on this jerk any day, can’t we?”

“Yeah, you tell him, Blondie!” Gabriel replied, struggling in the arms of the bouncer.

“Hurry up, Castiel,” Balthazar begged under his breath.

 

* * *

 

 

Growing up with Balthazar and Gabriel, Castiel was no stranger to second-hand embarrassment, and it also wasn’t the first time he had jumped out of the bed at an ungodly hour to go rescue them from a hairy situation.

It was, though, the first time he’d had to do it while also dealing with his drunken girlfriend, her drunken friend, and Gabriel’s insistence at saying things that would’ve probably made Meg scream in horror if she’d been awake to listen to them.

“You and I should get married,” he was telling Jo, while they all waited in the car for Balthazar to come back from the ER. “After Meg and Cas get married, of course. That way we could be Uncle Gabe and Aunt Jo!”

“Uh, I like how that sounds!” Jo laughed loud enough to wake up half the city, or at least it seemed that way to Castiel. He turned to look at Meg, who was snoozing with her head pressed against the window.

“Could you please not…?” he tried to ask to them.

“What? After Balthazar gets patched up, we’re going to have sex!” Gabriel affirmed. “And we’re gonna get engaged, and then married.”

“Try and stop us!” Jo said, and Castiel kept his mouth shut because he remembered the pitiful state of the bouncer’s eye. He decided then that Drunken Jo was probably more dangerous than Captain Lafitte could ever be, so he tried to ignore their ramblings and teasing until Balthazar returned with a bandage around his hand.

“Okay, then! We’re off!” he said, with a chortle that made Castiel suspect the worse.

“They didn’t give you painkillers, did they?” he asked, horrified.

“Yes, they did!” Balthazar laughed.

“Did you tell them you have been drinking?”

“Oh… it must have slipped my mind,” Balthazar laughed, and Gabriel and Jo laughed too, and that made Meg wake up with a startle.

“What… what’s going on?” she asked, grumpily.

“I’m the only sober person in this car, it’s what’s going on,” Castiel huffed, feeling the beginning of a headache growing in his temples.

The trip towards his brothers’ apartment was annoying and loud, but at least Jo and Gabriel had changed their minds about the whole having sex and getting married thing by the time they got there.

“I mean, don’t take it personally, you’re funny and all,” Jo said. “But you’re short, and sort of a womanizer.”

“Yeah, you remind me of my sister, Anna, before she became all serious and bitchy,” Gabriel said. “It would just be weird to have sex with you.”

“Yeah, I’ve met Anna,” Jo remembered. “She was kinda uptight. Maybe she’ll loosen up now that she’s fucking with Dean.”

“One can only hope,” Gabriel sighed, philosophically.

The ride in the elevator was interesting, to say the least. Balthazar complained that he was dizzy, while Meg held on to Castiel for dear life, as she was drifting in and out of consciousness. Jo and Gabriel just sat against the wall and continued their chat.

“You know, I wasn’t always a womanizer. I was in love once,” Gabriel was telling her. “Khali; was her name.”

“Ohhh, tell me about her!” Jo asked.

“She was so beautiful,” Gabriel said. “She was all hands, that chick. We met at this party in college…”

Castiel dragged his friends and family out of the elevator one by one, had to reach inside Gabriel’s pocket to find the keys, and opened the door just in time to catch Balthazar before he passed out from the combination of meds and alcohol. Luckily, Meg had woken up long enough to find her way into Castiel’s old room, so all he had to do was take Balthazar to his bed, help Jo to the couch and look for clean sheets and covers. In the time it took him to do that, Gabriel finished telling the story of Khali.

“… and then she went back to India, and I never saw her again.”

“That is so sad!” Jo exclaimed.

“Yeah… I kinda miss her still, even after all these years,” Gabriel admitted. “I don’t think I’ll ever love someone the way I loved her.”

“You should try to get in touch with her,” Jo suggested. “Maybe she misses you too.”

“Hey, maybe I should,” Gabriel said, drowsily, as he was falling asleep on the arm chair Castiel had sat him on. “I like you, Blondie. We should be, like, best friends. Do stuff together.”

“Yeah. That’d be nice,” Jo laughed, reclining her head against couch’s cushions. “Thank you,” she added to Castiel, who had just wrapped her with a cover.

“You’re welcome,” Castiel answered, and took one of Gabriel’s arms. “It’s time to go to bed, Gabe.”

“Oh, okay,” Gabriel said, surprisingly not putting up a fight. “Good night, best friend!”

“… night,” Jo sighed, as she fell asleep.

“Cas? You heard those things I said about Khali?” Gabriel asked him, as he opened the door of his bedroom.

“Yes…” Castiel said, awkwardly.

“I’ll kill you if you repeat them, okay?” Gabriel threatened him weakly, as he jumped in his bed.

“Your secret’s safe with me, brother. Good night.”

Gabriel uttered a reply, but he was out before Castiel could understand what he had said. The younger brother turned off the light, and rubbed his eyes before checking the clock. It was half past four. He still had a few hours to sleep before returning to his apartment to wait for Amelia and Claire. He figured his brothers wouldn’t mind if he crashed in his old room, since he had rescued them and all.

Meg had already gotten into bed; her shoes abandoned next to the door and her clothes spread all through the floor. She hadn’t removed the hairpins that kept her hairdo in place before sinking into the pillows, so Castiel sat next to her and carefully began to take them off, trying to not wake her up.

_I love you._

For the thousandth time that night, Castiel told himself she hadn’t meant to say those words, that she had been drunk and distracted, that he should pay no mind to it; but all that reasoning didn’t stop his heart from racing, or his hands from trembling or his brain from being filled with a sensation of dazing euphoria every time he remembered them. He put the last hairpin on the night table, and softly combed Meg’s hair with his fingers. He desperately wanted to tell her he loved her, too, but she might not even remember what she said.

Meg stirred. “Cas?” she called.

“Yes,” Castiel smiled. “I’m here.”

“We need to stop introducing my friends to your family,” Meg grunted.

“No arguing with you there,” Castiel chuckled. Meg sighed and opened her eyes.

“… the hell you doing still dressed?” she asked him. “Get in here. It’s late.”

Castiel took off his shirt and his trousers and got under the covers in just his boxers. Meg huddled against his chest, and let out a sound that reminded him of a purr.

“So… we’re back where everything started,” she observed, hazily.

“I suppose so,” Castiel said, brushing her forehead with his lips. Meg just got closer to him, and just when he thought she was back asleep, she spoke again:

“Who would have thought?”

“What thing?” Castiel asked, only half-intrigued. The interrupted sleep was finally catching up with him.

“That we’d be back here four months later,” Meg explained. “And that I’d be so fucking in love with you.”


	24. Chapter 24

Meg woke up to a sharpening sound hammering against her aching skull, and that immediately put her on a bad mood.

“Turn that shit off!” she mumbled.

“Sorry,” said a familiar voice. There was some shifting next to her, and then the rumbling sound went off.

Meg opened her eyes to find Castiel, still with his cellphone in hand and rubbing his eyes. He smiled at her awkwardly.

“Go back to sleep,” he said.

“I’ll try,” Meg groaned, and turned around to find a better position… only to get something pointy and hard stabbing her in the ass. “Well, good morning to you too!” she joked.

“Don’t flatter yourself, I really need to go to the bathroom,” Castiel said. “But Jo, Balthazar and Gabriel are taking turns hugging the toilet.”

“Oh, now that you mention it, I might have to get in that line,” Meg sat on the bed. She didn’t know what was worse, the headache in her brain, the dryness in her mouth or the swirling in her stomach. “You mind if I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“How did we end up here?”

Castiel’s expression hesitated somewhere between amusement and disappointment.

“You don’t remember anything?”

“I remember Gabriel doing a kegstand,” Meg said, squinted her eyes as if trying to catch a lost memory behind her eyelids. “The rest is a bit blurry…”

Castiel kindly make a recollection of the previous night’s events.

“Woah, and you had to deal with all four of us?” Meg asked, impressed.

“Well, after Balthazar passed out it wasn’t that problematic,” Castiel shrugged.

“Huh,” Meg frowned. She had the impression she was forgetting something important. “I didn’t say anything stupid, did I?”

Castiel hesitated, and avoided her gaze, but then said: “No.”

Which indicated Meg that she had, but he didn’t want to talk about it. That was alright. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know what it was.

“And we didn’t… did we?” she asked, hoping she didn’t have to clarify what she meant.

“I thought we’d established necrophilia was one of our hard limits,” he said. Meg rubbed her eyes.

“You’re making a sex joke at… nine o’clock in the morning, after I’ve been on a binge,” she complained. “Don’t expect me to laugh.”

“Of course not,” Castiel said, but he was beaming when he got out of bed and put on his jeans (which must have been difficult, since he was still sporting the morning wood). “You… do what you need to do. I’ll make some coffee.”

“My hero,” Meg said, sarcastically. “I’d kiss you, but I’m pretty sure I smell like a liquor store, and that would kill the romance.”

“Meg, if the state your make-up’s in didn’t make me stop thinking you’re beautiful, nothing will,” Castiel replied casually, and left the room.

Meg disregarded that comment. She couldn’t be all that bad, could she?

Twenty minutes later, after Gabriel came out of the bathroom muttering “All yours” in a defeated tone, she took one hard look in the mirror, and grudgingly recognized she was even worse than she had imagined. And Castiel still said she looked beautiful.

“Well, fuck, the guy needs a good pair of glasses,” she told her reflection before kneeling to pay her respects to the toilet.

 

* * *

 

 

“That explains why my knuckles hurt,” Jo commented when they told her she’d punched the bouncer.

The four of them were in the kitchen, sipping coffee and trying to reconstruct exactly what’d happened the night before, while Castiel diligently made bacon and toasts for everybody.

“You’re one  _badass_ chick, Blondie,” Gabriel said, and there was a note of admiration in his voice.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen a blow so perfectly delivered,” Balthazar added.

“Thanks. Mom insisted I should know how to take care of myself,” Jo said, and Meg nodded. If Jo was tough, her mother, Ellen, was ten times tougher.

“Alright, there we go,” Castiel announced, setting the plates in front of them. “Greasy breakfast for everyone… even though I’m pretty sure that won’t help your hangover.”

“Excuse me, who are the experts on this?” Gabriel asked, and proceeded to attack his bacon like he hadn’t eaten in months.

“Oh, this is great!” Jo exclaimed, like everyone who tried one of Castiel’s breakfast for the first time. “Thank you! All the food at the reception tonight will probably be horrible vegetarian, healthy stuff.”

“Dean will go insane,” Meg laughed.

“Meh, I’m pretty sure he’ll find something to entertain himself,” Jo said, winking.

“I’m sorry, but if you’re about to mock our sister’s sexual relationship with your friend, I’m going to have to ask you to refrain,” Balthazar said.

“Yeah, only we’re allowed to do that,” Gabriel said, between bites of bacon.

“Hey, I like Anna,” Jo shrugged. “All the more now she’s gone Team Megstiel.”

“Woah, we have a team now?” Meg asked.

“Of course you have a team, silly,” Gabriel said, grinning at her. “We’re making little flags and shirts and all sorts of merchandise…”

“We’ll use the profit to finance your wedding,” Balthazar added.

“It’ll be a freaking bender, as God intended,” Jo declared. “No fancy dinner party with vegan dishes!”

“I would normally object to the fact you’re planning our wedding without consulting us,” Castiel said with all the dignity he was capable of gathering, but Meg noticed his cheeks had gone red. “But I am running late.” He drank the last of his coffee, and stood up. “I’ll see you later?” he asked, leaning near Meg.

“Sure. I’ll just go home and take a shower to wash the party out of my system,” she said.

“Good luck with that,” Balthazar snickered.

Castiel leaned even closer, and before Meg could do anything about it, he kissed her on the lips, long enough for Gabriel to yell them to get a room. It was Meg’s turn to blush, even though there was no logic reason whatsoever she should be embarrassed for that public display of affection in front of her friends. The friends, by the way, who resumed their teasing the moment Castiel walked out of the room.

“I’d say a spring wedding,” Jo stated.

“How many pins do you think we’ll have to sell to get a couple of decent rings?” Gabriel asked, pretending to be lost in calculations.

“We’re not having rings!” Meg interrupted them, and then realized she had sounded way too serious and offended for an innocent hangover joke. “If anything, we’re having leashes and collars,” she declared, and everybody burst into laughter. Like they thought she wasn’t serious.

 

* * *

 

 

Normally, her friends making wedding jokes (Gabriel and Balthazar were her friends now too, because you can’t stage a drunken scandal with someone without becoming friends) would have installed red lights and sirens inside Meg’s head. Normally, she would have stopped looking for her beat-up copy of  _Chitty Chitty Bang Bang_ if she hadn’t found it in the first two places she checked. Normally, she would have freaked out when someone presented her with a key and key chain they had obviously been meaning to give her for some time. Normally, bed time did not involve long fairytales readings, with voices and special effects included.

But Meg was starting to come to the conclusion nothing about her relationship with Castiel was normal for her.

The strange thing was; she couldn’t care less.

“’ _… then the prince went to Kashchey's white stone palace_ ,” Castiel read. “ _The wise Princess Vassilisa ran out to meet him, and kissed him on his lips…_ ”

“…  _Prince Ivan and Princess Vassilisa returned home,_ ” Meg continued, “ _and lived happily to a ripe old age._ ”

“And… you are…” Castiel said, taking a good look at Claire, “… asleep.”

Meg turned to check it was true, because she couldn’t quite believe it: Claire was finally lying still, with her eyes closed and her breathing regular and deep. She exchanged a look with Castiel, closed the book and tiptoed out of the room as fast and silently as she could. Castiel followed her closely, after giving Claire a light kiss and turning off her night lamp. He closed the door behind him, and let out a long sigh of relief. Both Meg and him leaned against the wall, and slid down until they were sitting on the hallway.

“Okay, that wasn’t that bad,” Meg said.

“She was tired. She fell asleep rather fast,” Castiel pointed. Meg frowned at him.

“Fast? That was the third tale we read her!”

“It usually takes five or six,” he said.

“And you do this every night?” Meg asked.

“Well… used to,” Castiel shrugged, with a sad smile. Meg just stared at him for a minute.

“Has anyone told you you’re the most adorable thing to ever walk this earth?”

Castiel just let out a little laugh, and Meg felt as if her heart was being constricted inside her chest, and suddenly the only thing she could think is how much she wanted to kiss.

Not to take him to bed, or to tie him up, or to torture him. Just kiss him.

So she did exactly that. She cupped his cheek in her hand, bit his lower lip and rubbed her nose against his, tasting his mouth, relishing in the contact of their skins. She had a hand on his shoulder, pulling him closer to her, and could feel his fingers running through her hair. It was a slow kiss, a timid kiss, but somehow it managed to make her tremble in a way not even the most passionate kiss she had given could.

Meg remembered the first time she kissed a boy she really liked: it was awkward, and sloppy, and confusing. But the butterflies in her stomach and the blood rushing to her head so fast it made her dizzy confirmed her exactly how much she’d like that boy.

And this… this was nothing like that.

This was a hundred times better. This was the nuclear bomb of all kisses.

She even had the impression she could hear bells tolling in the background.

No, wait, those were actual bells. The phone was ringing.

Castiel broke apart, and the exasperated expression in his face indicated he was as frustrated as her for the interruption.

“I should probably get that,” he said.

“Right,” Meg sighed. “I’m… going to get ready for bed, I guess.”

They stood up and Castiel dragged his feet to the living room. Meg shook her head a little. What was wrong with her? She’d gone party one night and now she was all shaky and dazed?

Of course, that feeling wasn’t because of the weariness from the previous night, but she would gladly trade places with whoever had the disgrace of being Jess’ maid of honor  _right then_ before admitting it.

She walked into Castiel’s room and put on the nightgown she had brought in her sleepover bag. It wasn’t necessarily sexy, but it did have some pretty embroidery on the neckline, and it showed a very generous part of her legs. She had chosen it very carefully. Just because they couldn’t have sex while the kid was there, it didn’t mean she had to wear rags to sleep, right?

She took out her dressing case and crossed the hall. Castiel’s voice reached her ears, muffled, as he was whispering, but she had the impression he sounded angry. She grimaced, and closed the bathroom door behind her.

Once she was done, while she was washing her toothbrush from any trace of paste left; it suddenly hit her that she was going to be spending at least four nights at Castiel’s apartment the following week, and who knew how many others in the foreseeable future. It just seemed absurd to carry something as forgettable and small as a toothbrush back and forward, and she couldn’t keep abusing the mouthwash every time she woke up there.

The practical thing would be to leave it there. Or maybe buy a new one to leave there. Well, she could start by just putting this one somewhere she could find it the following morning.

She opened the cabinet, and found the glass with Castiel’s and Claire’s brushes in it (Castiel’s was blue, and Claire’s was pink with a Hello Kitty drawing in the handle). She raised her brush to put it with them… and she couldn’t bring herself to drop it.

Meg cursed herself. She was being ridiculous. It was just a fucking toothbrush. It didn’t mean she was moving in. Although, well… she  _had_ received a key to that place earlier that day. And she had been cordially invited to drop by any time she wanted, albeit she was planning to make a very limited use of that right.

It just… it was a little excessive. Maybe she should ask Castiel’s opinion. He wouldn’t lie to her, and even if he wasn’t down with the idea, he would be at least polite about it.

She got out and walked towards the living room, still holding the toothbrush in her hand. To her surprise, Castiel was still on the phone, and his irritated tone had escalated into full blown rage.

“No, Amelia, that’s not going to happen!” he was saying. He obviously was containing himself from raising his voice. “Because, no! Come on now. Do you honestly think I’d let her be around Claire if I didn’t trust her? Oh, so it’s me you don’t believe, then!” Castiel turned around, saw Meg standing there and let out a long exhalation. “Look, we’ll keep talking about this tomorrow. Because I’m tired, and you’re being unreasonable. Good night!”

He hung the phone with more strength that it was necessary and rubbed his temples, a gesture Meg was starting to associate with headaches and annoyance.

“Everything alright?” she asked, worried.

“Yeah, yeah,” Castiel lied. He was so bad at lying it was pathetic. “Just… Amelia, being Amelia.”

“You didn’t happen to be talking about me, did you?” Meg ventured.

Castiel avoided her glance for a moment, like he was trying to find the words. “She’s been… insisting. On meeting you.”

“Oh,” Meg said, a cold, unpleasant sensation climbing up to the pit of her stomach.

“She says she wants to know the woman her daughter is spending so much time with,” Castiel continued to explain. “That it’s only fair, since I know Alistair and all. I’ve told her it’s none of her business and that I’d never let anyone in Claire’s life if I thought that it might be somehow harmful to her, but…”

“Okay,” Meg found herself saying. Castiel raised his eyes, startled.

“Okay?”

“Okay. I’ll meet with her,” she said. “She has a point. And she won’t stop tormenting you until I do, will she?”

“No, that she won’t,” Castiel admitted, and took step towards her. “Are you sure? You don’t have to…”

“I’m… trying to be a good girlfriend here,” Meg told him. “And I don’t want the kid to suffer because her parents are fighting over me.”

Castiel smiled and put his arms around her waist. “You are wonderful.”

“I know,” Meg said, hugging him.

“Can I ask you something?” Castiel said, suddenly. “Why are you carrying your toothbrush?”

“Oh, that,” Meg remembered. “No reason.”


	25. Chapter 25

There were still trifles about this boyfriend-girlfriend thing that Meg had to wrap her head around in the following weeks.

“Out?” she asked when Castiel suggested it. “What do you mean you want to go out?”

“You know… outside the apartment,” Castiel explained, patiently. “There’s this little restaurant I found. It has a resident jazz band that plays there every Thursday. They take requests; you can ask them to play  _They Can’t Take That Away From Me._ ”

“Why can’t we just stay here?”

Castiel sighed. “Because as much as I like to stay in here with you (and believe me, I do), if we are going to spend more time together, then we should also do… you know, stuff we both enjoy.”

“I thought that’s what we were doing last night when I handcuffed you to the table,” Meg pointed.

Castiel raised an eyebrow, and then looked away, which indicated he wanted to discuss about it, but wasn’t going to. Meg crossed her arms. Okay. She could do ‘stuff’.

“But we’ll split everything!” she warned him.

So Castiel took her to the little restaurant with the jazz band.

And he also took her to the cinema, and didn't argue with her when she decided what movie they would be watching, and didn’t oppose when Meg decided the movie was boring and she much rather just make out with him.

And then they went to the zoo, although Castiel claimed that was not much of a date, since they spent the whole time running after Claire and making sure she didn’t fall inside the cages.

It was worth it, though. She fell asleep during the second tale that night. However, Amelia didn’t look so happy when the kid loudly announced it had been the best day ever.

“You let her inside the  _Snake House_ ?” she asked them, enraged.

“You know, I think we should just stop trying to please her,” Meg told Castiel later. “She’s never going to hate me any less.”

“Agreed,” Castiel sighed.

On the other hand, Castiel’s siblings seemed to be doing an extra effort to integrate Meg. They went out on a double-date with Anna and Dean (Dean made sure to cover for all the awkward silences, which both Meg and Castiel were thankful for); for drinks with Gabriel and Balthazar (Gabriel hit on every woman on sight, and Castiel put an end to the night before anything disastrous happened), and were planning on doing something with Alfie and Garth, when Jo called and said she needed extra hands at the refuge; so the four of them spent a whole Sunday morning bottle-feeding puppies and bathing cats (which was about as fun as it sounded).

Alfie, at least, was delighted.

“Aren’t you a beauty?” he was saying, while rubbing the belly of a Doberman that wasn’t nearly as fearsome as she looked.

“That’s Portia,” Jo told them. “She belonged to a policeman who got shot last month. It’s hard to find her a home, you know, since Dobermans had that whole stupid stigma attached.”

“Oh, that’s so sad!” Garth exclaimed.

“Well, don’t worry, we’ll find you a home, won’t we? Yes, we will!” Alfie told the dog, who tried to lick his face in response.

By the end of the day, they had indeed found her a home: Garth and Alfie’s place. Alfie was as gleeful as a kid on Christmas’ morning.

“I’ve always wanted a dog!” he kept repeating, while patting a very happy-looking Portia in the head. “Dad never let us get one, remember, Castiel?”

“He had a certain aversion to animals,” Castiel nodded.

“Come say goodbye, Meg!” Alfie invited.

“Ah, no, no, thanks,” Meg smiled, keeping her distance. “I’m more of a cat person.”

Of course, not everything was fun and games. Meg and Castiel still had they’re little agreement about fulfilling dreams and such, but Castiel refused to let her see any of his drawing.

“They’re just… not ready to be seen,” he said, blushing every time she inquired about them.

Meg had the impression he hadn’t actually drawn anything, but didn’t press him on the issue. She had her own matters to be concerned about, and they all seemed to come crashing down on her head one Friday night when she asked Jo to cover up for her at the Den so they could go to the theatre.

“That’s Ruby Cortese,” she indicated him in a whisper, as a tall olive-skinned brunette appeared on stage in the middle of the first act. “She’s Mervin Tron’s favorite actress…”

“Shhh,” the grey-bearded guy behind them hushed them.

“Sorry.”

“So… she stars in all of his plays?” Castiel asked, after a while.

“That’s right,” Meg said. “Of course, she’s going to be his choice for Tira in  _I’m no angel._ ”

“But I thought you have been offered that part?” Castiel asked.

The guy behind them hushed them again.

“I was offered an audition,” Meg explained, ignoring the guy and leaving Castiel a little more confused.

“So… you have to…?”

“I have to out-act her,” Meg concluded.

“You’re here studying the enemy then?” the shushing guy asked, with a note of amusement in his voice.

They both turned around, probably to tell the guy they were talking about something important and private there, but Meg’s jaw dropped when she recognized him.

“Oh, my God, you are…”

“Yes, I am,” the guy said. “You must be Megan.”

“Oh, just Meg, please,” she said, offering her hand. “It’s an honor to meet you, Mr. Tron.”

“Pleased to meet you, too,” Mervin Tron smiled. “If you stay quiet the rest of the act, I promise I’ll talk to you in the lobby during the interlude.”

“Alright, then,” Meg accepted, and turned to look at the play, and didn’t say a word for the rest of the act.

In Castiel’s opinion, that only served to bottle up all her anxiety and made it explode the moment the lights turned on and they rushed to the lobby.

“Why isn’t he here? He said he would be here,” she asked for the tenth time, walking in circles.

“He’ll be here,” Castiel tried to calm her down. “He didn’t look like the type of guy who cares much about time,” he added, remembering his disheveled gray hair and his brown woven jacket that seemed as old as time. “He was kinda… off, don’t you think?”

“He’s a genius,” Meg said. “He has five Tony’s under his belt. They say he once wrote a one-hundred pages script while on a caffeine binge and showed up naked to the workshop,” she told him. Castiel put on a face that clearly expressed that that was exactly what he meant. “Well, he might be a bit eccentric,” Meg admitted.

“Granted; he’s a writer,” Castiel shrugged.

“You haven’t had many good experiences with writers, I take it?” a voice interrupted him. Castiel gave a little jump and turned around to find Mervin Tron smiling at him.

“Mr. Tron,” Meg said, taking step towards him and offering him his hand.

“Merv, please,” the writer asked. “Crowley’s told me a lot about you, Meg.”

“Not all bad, I hope,” Meg joked.

“Maybe we can talk about it over a drink,” Mervin said. “Your friend can come along.”

“Boyfriend,” Meg corrected him, and both she and Castiel were surprised at how automatic it was. “This is my boyfriend, Castiel,” Meg introduced him.

“Actor?” Mervin wanted to know, after taking a good look at Castiel.

“Graphic designer,” Castiel said.

“Shame,” Mervin said, and adopted a dreaming look. “Different worlds… it’ll never work… but then again, the most beautiful love stories must always end in tragedy…”

“Excuse me?” Castiel asked.

“Just thinking out loud,” Mervin clarified, smiling again. “I know the most delightful little place. Follow me, if you please.”

What came after that was one of the most uncomfortable half-hours Castiel remembered, and that taking into account the time his siblings had walked in on him and Meg. Mervin wasn’t at all like Carver: he was much worse. When he wasn’t talking about plays Castiel had never heard about (and sometimes, his references were too obscure even for Meg), he was muttering to himself, eying the rest of the costumers and drinking shot after shot of neat whiskey. Both Castiel and Meg decided it was best to avoid alcohol this time.

“Enough chat! Let’s discuss business!” Mervin declared, putting down his glass on the table with a stomp. “What makes you think you’re the right one to play Tira?” he asked, piercing Meg with his little dark eyes.

“Mervin… I  _am_ Tira,” Meg declared, with a confidence that startled Castiel.

Mervin cackled deafeningly. “This is theatre history, right here!” he exclaimed. “This is the stuff legends are made of! When writer Mervin Tron asked actress Megan Masters why she should play Tira, she said ‘Mervin… I  _am_ Tira’. Oh, what a story!” he rubbed his hands greedily. “I like you.”

He ordered another shot of whiskey, and continued with his rattle.

“But I am writing a different Tira, my dear, one who has little to do with Mae’s Tira. I am making  _I’m no angel_ into a proper love story, and good love stories always end up badly. I want people to cry, not to laugh when they see you on the stage. The question is, can you make them cry?” he shot another look at Meg. “Ruby is a seasoned actress who’s proven her value time and time again; while you’re a new-comer so raw the ink on your acting degree is not dry yet. Crowley tells me you are good, but are you  _that_ good?”

If Castiel hadn’t known Meg, he wouldn’t even have noticed the split-second hesitation she had before resting her face in her hand and smiling at Mervin seductively.

“Well, when I’m good, I’m very good,” she said, in a voice that was so unlike her it unnerved her boyfriend. “But when I’m bad, I’m better.”

Mervin’s eyes were shinning.

“You  _are_ Tira!” he said, delighted. He searched inside the pockets of his dirty jeans, and somehow produced a pen and a notepad. “Come and see me, and we can discuss the script so you can woo the director and the producers as much as you’ve wooed me,” he said, scribbling down so fast and hard it was a miracle the pages didn’t get torn. “You need the general thumbs up, and you were right, you are going against Ruby. But you have my vote,” he said, plucking the page from the notepad and giving it to Meg. “And that’s the most important vote. Goodbye, Meg. It was a pleasure to meet you,” he said, standing and stumbling with the table so the empty glasses clattered noisily. He recovered his balance, and left, still muttering to himself and completely disregarding the speechless Castiel.

“What the hell did just happen?” he asked, once Mervin was out of the bar.

“I’m not sure,” Meg said, looking at the address and the phone number written in the page. “But I’m glad it worked. That was the only line from the movie I remembered.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Look at her go,” Meg said. “Look how she works the room. That’s Tira for you.”

Since they have skipped the second act of the play, Meg suggested they should go home and actually watch  _I’m no angel_ . When Castiel asked where they were supposed to find a copy of an old Mae West movie on a Friday night, Meg answered matter-of-factly that she actually had a pirate copy of it. And every other black and white movie ever, Castiel suspected.

“She is a very charismatic woman,” Castiel admitted, while Tira strutted around the courtroom, reaping glances and laughter from everybody present. “That’s seems to be her main quality.”

“No, Tira is much more than that,” Meg said, moving a little to find a more comfortable spot in the couch. “She’s doing the strong female character thing  _years_ before that became a thing. She’s confident, cheeky and unapologetic about her sexuality. She actually wears her bad reputation on her sleeve like it’s a badge of honor, and that’s a pretty bold thing to do for a nineteen thirties’ woman. She enjoys luxury, but she’s never once asked for any of the presents she’s received, so you know money is not her primary motivation, even though other characters think it is.”

“And what is her motivation, according to you?” Castiel asked. He actually enjoyed when Meg spontaneously decided to lecture him about movies and actors. It made him feel she was opening a window into her world.

“Love, obviously,” Meg answered. “She’s looking for someone that will love her just the way she is, someone who won’t ask her to change to accommodate some sort of ridiculous social standard. That’s why she falls for Jack instead of Kirk, you see.”

“But he broke off their engagement,” Castiel pointed.

“Only because he thought she didn’t love him back,” Meg said. “In the end, he’s the only decent guy in her life. He doesn’t see her as a piece of ass to own, or as side entertainment, or as money-making machine. He sees her for who she is, and more important, he loves her for it.”

She stopped to take air, and Castiel, who had been watching her speak for the last minute, turned his attention back to the screen. Tira and Jack were together again. She was ostentatiously ripping off the check he’d given her, and they were melting into a final embrace before the credits appeared.

“She’s no angel,” Meg concluded with a smile. “But he wouldn’t have her any other way.”

She moved her head a little closer to his, and for a moment, Castiel couldn’t do anything but stare at her.

“Are we still talking about the movie?” he asked.

“Why, what else would we be talking about?” Meg asked, puzzled.

Castiel decided not to answer, and reached for the remote control.

“Well, I think the way you put it, it’s a beautiful love story,” he said. “And I don’t see why Mervin would want to change any of it.”

“Nah, he does have a point,” Meg said. “All the best love stories, the ones that truly stay with you, end badly. People want to fantasize about the one that got away, about what could have been. No one would pay to see Romeo and Juliet happily married and raising grand-children.”

“I would,” Castiel shrugged. Meg let out a chuckle. “No, really. It’s easy to love someone for a while and then lose them and have them as an immaculate memory of what love should be for the rest of your life. The truly brave thing is to fight everyday to keep that person by your side, to try and save whatever’s left after every possible disaster you may encounter hits you.”

“Aren’t we getting poetic?” Meg teased him, but he noticed she had gotten closer to him. “So tell me, Mr. Hopeless Romantic… why did you divorce your wife?”

Castiel offered her a bitter smile. “Trust me; I wanted to fight tooth and nail for our marriage. But in the end, there was just… nothing left to fight for. I hadn’t been in love with Amelia for a while.”

Meg didn’t say anything, but put her hand on Castiel’s arm, and started moving her finger in small circles. She looked pensive.

“So… hypothetically speaking,” she said. “Do you think you’ll ever find someone worth the fight?”

“Hypothetically speaking,” Castiel smiled. “Yes. Yes, I do. You?”

“Yes,” Meg said. “I mean, maybe. Hypothetically speaking, of course.”

She had been avoiding his gaze, but suddenly, she looked up, and there was a sparkle in her big brown eyes, a glow he hadn’t seen before. Her fingers had stopped moving to just rest on his forearm, and her lips were parted like she had words she couldn’t pronounce stuck in her mouth, words she might choke on if she tried to force them. Castiel was pretty sure he’d had those very same words burning in his throat for some time now, and he thought, maybe if he said it first, it would be easier for her.

“Meg, I…”

“Shut up,” she cut him off, and kissed him to ensure he did.

And as always, he obeyed her.


	26. Chapter 26

Of course Castiel understood Meg didn’t want to hear the word “love”, let alone say it. But lately, it seems half the time he was speaking to her; he was also looking for a way to let her know what he felt without actually saying it. It was exhausting.

At least when he was on his knees, being whipped and tormented, when he was Clarence, the good little slave, he could let some of that feelings flow free.

“I worship you, Mistress,” he told her once. He was naked and tied up in front of her, but she had removed the blindfold, so he could he see her grin.

“Do you, Clarence?” she asked him, stepping closer to him. “What would you do for Mistress if she asked you to?”

“Anything,” Castiel said. “Anything at all.”

For a moment, he thought she was going to use that answer to actually asked him to do something they hadn’t done before, but she just wrapped her arms around his neck, and buried his face in her belly.

“You’re mine, Clarence,” she said, in that husky whisper that drove Castiel insane so often. “You’re for me to do as I please. Aren’t you?”

“Yes,” Castiel said, and he didn’t realize there were some tears running down his cheeks. “Yes, I am yours. Completely yours.”

Meg step backwards and cupped his face in her hands. “Are you alright?”

“I’m… I’m sorry, I don’t…”

He didn’t need to continue. She released him, sat with by him on the bed and held him until he stopped crying. He hadn’t safe-worded, and they hadn’t really stepped on a landmine. He just felt like something had broken inside of him when he said he was hers. Maybe because of the rawness of the statement, the pure feeling that’d inspired it, maybe because he knew he would have never felt comfortable saying something like that to anyone else.

Yet it had come so naturally to his lips, he couldn’t deny it was true. In that precise moment, he belonged to her. Body and soul.

“Shh, that’s okay,” she whispered, as she stroked his hair. “That’s alright, Cas.”

Cas. Not Clarence. The game had ended. Castiel pulled himself together after a few deep breaths and looked at her. She was smiling, and he couldn’t help but to smile back.

“Hey,” she said, and kissed his forehead. “Thank you.”

“For what?” Castiel asked, confused.

“Just… thank you,” Meg shrugged. “Help me out this damn thing, will you?”

Castiel unbuttoned the corset and tossed it on the floor before getting under the sheets and cuddling with her, the skin of her back tightly pressed against his chest.

“You’re welcome,” he murmured. “For whatever I did.”

Meg giggled against the pillow and muttered something Castiel didn’t catch. The following moment, she was fast asleep, and he felt like crying again. He mouthed the words against her neck, not daring to say them out loud in case she could hear them.

And that was as close as he got to actually confessing what was going through his mind every time he saw her standing in his kitchen wearing nothing but one of his old shirts, or playing puzzle wars with his daughter, or waking up in the middle of night to snuggle closer to him.

“I worship you, Mistress,” he’d said, and it was true. He adored that dominating, sadistic woman who showed him no mercy when it came to elevate him to new heights of pleasure.

“I love you, Meg,” he’d meant, and that was even truer. He loved that sweet, honest and fearless girl that had burst into his chaotic life unannounced, but somehow so long-awaited.

He did his best not to mix them, though, too scared of losing them both.

 

* * *

 

 

The alarm clock let out its usual penetrating beep, and Castiel groaned before rolling over to turn it off. Meg moved slightly against him, which meant she had heard it and was awake, but had no intentions of leaving the comfort of the sheets.

“Good morning,” Castiel said, and left a peck on her shoulder.

“What’s so good about it?” Meg protested, sinking in the pillows even further. “I hate that alarm.”

“I know… Meg,” he sighed, because she had turned around and her mouth had found the side of his neck. “Meg… please, I have to go to work…”

“Why?” she protested. “Today’s the audition… if everything works out, I’ll be rich and famous, and you’ll be my trophy boyfriend,” she added, her fingers lazily tracing patterns on his chest. “And I’ll have you locked in my house cooking for me all day. Would you like that?”

“It is a very pleasant dream,” Castiel admitted. “But until then, I have to pay my bills somehow,” he sighed, raising his wrist, which was chained up to Meg’s. “And you have to uncuff me.”

“Killjoy,” Meg whispered groggily, but turned around to look for the keys anyway.

In fairness, there was nothing Castiel would have liked more than linger in bed and nuzzle with her, and he had to use all of his willpower to get up. Meg put up a bit of a fight and a very convincing argument that implied her hands in Castiel’s most sensitive spots, but in the end, she gave up.

They didn’t take turns on the bathroom because they would both fall back asleep if they stayed in bed to wait for the other to be done, so Castiel stood next to her, shaving, while she carefully brushed her teeth. It was a luxury, really, to be having this perfectly domestic morning routine, when almost three months ago, Meg hadn’t even wanted to stay over, and Castiel was strangely pleased with it.

“By the way,” she said, after spitting out. “Sam and Jess are coming back from their honeymoon this Saturday, and Dean’s throwing them a party.”

“I’m starting to believe Dean doesn’t need an excuse to throw a party,” Castiel replied, while he analyzed his face in the mirror, looking for any stubs his razor might have missed.

“Then you’re starting to understand Dean,” Meg chuckled, turning on the shower. “Anyway, he said we should invite the ‘Abbot lot’, as he calls you.”

“Well, I’m sure…” Castiel began to say, but completely lost his train of thought when he turned his head in time to see Meg take off of the old shirt of his she used to sleep, lean very slowly to remove her panties, and step in the shower with a meaningful glance at him.

“Are you getting in here with me or what?” she asked, with a devilish grin.

“I-I’m going to… be late,” he stuttered. Meg pouted. “I-I have to teach Becky to… there’s this project we… Naomi said…” Castiel realized there was no reason in the world powerful enough for him not to jump in that shower. “They’ll live,” he decided, before getting rid of his suddenly uncomfortable pajama bottoms and following her behind the shower curtain.

Meg kissed him hungrily, the hot water making their skins all slippery and warm. He explored her body, sinking his fingers in every inch of her, as she did the same for him. Her mouth was on his neck, on his chest, all over him, and for once, Castiel didn’t feel like playing or waiting: he wanted her then and there.

He cupped her ass with his hands and Meg seemed to understand. She stood on her toes and put her arms around his neck for support. Castiel lifted her up, her legs clinging at each of his hips, and hesitated before making any other movement.

“Come on, Clarence, don’t hold back,” she said, nibbling his ear. “I’m not going to break.”

And she dug her nails on his back, sending a burning sensation down his spine. He pushed her against the wall, and without any preparation, he thrust into her, gaining a loud moan that soon became an aggressive bite on his neck. He kept moving, faster and faster, encouraged by her sighs and groans and kisses.

He felt his arms getting tired and his head dizzy from the vapor invading the bathroom, but most important, he felt her, pressed against his, her wet hair falling on her face, her eyes shut in ecstasy, shivering and screaming, ordering him to fuck her,  _harder now, oh, yeah, right there, don’t you dare to fucking stop now._

“Castiel!” she called out, her cheeks flushed and her lips swollen, and it was downright pornographic to hear his name in such a manner. Castiel buried his face on her shoulder, and came undone in successive waves of pleasure that left him panting and with his heart beating so fast it might stop.

He didn’t care. He could have died of pure happiness at that precise moment.

Slowly, he put Meg down, but she still clung onto his neck while catching her breath.

“I seriously love this shower,” she said. Castiel chuckled and kissed her damp hair. He loved a completely different thing, but now was not the time to bring it up.

 

* * *

 

 

Meg was in a pretty good mood when they left the apartment later that morning. She usually wasn’t a fan of quickies (in her opinion, they were a lot like fast food: nice at the moment, but then you were hungry again less than two hours later), but that one had been rather fun, even though she was pretty sure the patterns of the bathroom tiles were now permanently imprinted on her ass.

“We should do that more often,” she told Castiel, and he just laughed.

He was in a good mood, too, and his lasted longer than hers, because the ride in his car was long and slow enough for Meg to realize she was going to an audition for the first time in… how long? A year, maybe? Her stomach twisted in an anxious knot, and her hands started sweating. She tried to tell herself that she was ready, she’d been practicing with Mervin for two weeks, she had seen  _I’m no angel_ obsessively, she had used every waking hour to memorize the lines. She  _was_ Tira, and Tira didn’t suffer from no stage fright, dammit!

She still completely missed what Castiel told her when they turned around the corner and parked in front of the theatre the audition was taking place at; too lost in thoughts of horrible failure and humiliation.

“What now?” she asked him.

“I was telling you I’ll call my brothers later to tell them about Dean’s party,” he repeated, with his usual coolness. How could he be so calm when she was just  _dying_ inside? “Do you have any idea at what time it might begin?”

“Oh,” she remembered. “No, I don’t know. I’ll ask him later.”

She looked outside the window, and suddenly the theatre doors seemed wide and unfriendly, like the mouth of a monster ready to devour her.

“Meg?” Castiel called her. “Are you alright?”

“Yes,” she said, and her voice sounded strangely shrilly. “I’m peachy.”

Of course Castiel realized that she was lying. He held her hands and made her look at him.

“Listen, you have no reason to be nervous,” he told her. “You are very talented, and you have worked hard in perfecting this role. I am certain everyone in there will be able to see that.”

“And if they don’t?” Meg asked.

“Then it’s their loss,” he shrugged.

It was the same thing Meg have been trying to tell herself, but when Castiel said it, it sounded less than a cheap motivational speech and more like an absolute truth. And surprisingly, she felt like she had regained her confidence.

“You always know what to say,” she smiled. “How do you always know how to say?”

“It’s one of my many gifts,” Castiel gloated, and he looked so damn cute Meg had to resist the urge to drag him to the backseat and do unspeakable things to him. How about that? She was hungry again.

“Alright,” she took a deep breath. “I got this.”

“Indeed you do,” Castiel assured her.

“Wish me luck,” she said, reaching for the handle.

“Break a leg.”

Meg was going to open the door, but then she realized she was forgetting something important. She turned around, and before Castiel could add another word, she grabbed him by the collar and pulled him for a kiss.

“We are celebrating big when this is over,” she said, and opened the door.

“Of course we are,” Castiel giggled, as he started the car again. “I love you.”

Meg froze two steps away from the theater’s door, and looked over her shoulder, but Castiel’s car was already lost among the traffic of Broadway Avenue. What the hell had he just said? She must have heard him wrong. Why the fuck would he say something like that when she was at the edge of a nervous breakdown?!

It took her a minute or two to notice all her apprehension was actually gone now. As she walked in the theater and down the hall, she noticed her heart was not thumping in her throat anymore, but back on her chest where it should be. Her palms were no longer sweaty, and the knots in her stomach had been replaced by a swarm of butterflies that made her all tingly. Her steps were lighter, and only when the other aspiring actresses gave her a dirty look, she realized she was smiling.

Damn Clarence. He  _did_ always know what to say.


	27. Chapter 27

There were five other girls waiting on the hall (all blondes, one of them thanks to the magic of a god-awful wig) besides Meg and, of course, Ruby Cortese. She was the only one who didn’t exhibit any signs of nervousness, but for all Meg knew, she could be acting. That was her job, after all.

But when Mervin’s favorite leading lady glanced at her and smiled, it looked totally natural, and the offhand gesture that she made for Meg to sit by her side didn’t seem anything but spontaneous. Meg returned the smile politely and took the seat. She was not scared of her.

“So… you must be Meg Masters,” she said, and her voice sounded particularly strident against the terrified silence the other actresses were maintaining. Meg noticed at least two of them had turned their heads to pry at their conversation.

“I am,” Meg said, trying to sound as casual as Ruby. “And you’re Ruby Casidy. Loved your Blanche last year.”

“Thank you!” Ruby said, even a bit louder, so the three other girls who  _weren’t_ listening to them couldn’t ignore them anymore. “I don’t believe I’d seen any work of yours…”

Meg had to do her best to keep her smile up. “Oh, I hadn’t been on anything big,” she admitted, with a dismissive gesture. “But, you know… I’m trying to find my way.”

“So this is your first big gig?” Ruby asked, and put a hand on Meg’s forearm, leaning closer to her. The other actresses gave them intrigued looks, and one of them even went as far as to take a step closer to the two. “Do you know who the producer is?”

“I don’t think so,” Meg frowned. “Why, should I?”

“Oh, yes,” Ruby shook her head, only to get closer to Meg. “Azazel is very demanding with new comers, you know.”

“What kind of name is ‘Azazel’?” Meg was tempted to laugh, but refrained. She wasn’t sure that was a wise decision.

“That’s his nickname, of course,” Ruby said. “But it suits him. He really  _is_ a demon when it comes to his productions.”

“How so?” Meg asked, frowning. Neither Mervin nor Crowley had warned her about ‘Azazel’.

“Well…” Ruby seemed to be looking for words, but Meg had the impression she was seeing a scripted and carefully rehearsed scene. “Let’s just say the couch in his office has kick-started several careers.”

_‘Including yours?’_ Meg was tempted to ask, but before she could, the door from the auditioning room opened and an assistant called Ruby.

“Well, here we go,” Ruby said, beaming.

“Break a leg,” Meg said. And part of her wished that Ruby would step on a banana skin and actually break a leg.

Meg wasn’t naïve. She knew how writers, directors and producers would sometimes offer to give a struggling actress a breakthrough part in an important play in exchange of certain ‘special favors’. In fact, she had been proposed with such deals more than once, and she was proud to say she had turned them all down. That had been around the time she had decided auditions weren’t worth it and men were pigs, and gotten involved with Lilith; which turned out to be huge mistake. But regardless, Meg had a strict code about it. She wanted to  _earn_ her part based on her acting skills, not on how good she was at blowjobs.

And if Azazel was the kind of asshole who would come on to her in such terms, well, too bad. She would have to pass on this one.

Certainly, Tira would have understood.

 

* * *

 

 

Castiel had been staring at the computer screen so attentively he completely missed what Becky told him.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“I asked if you wanted me to scan these, boss,” she said, pointing at a bunch of sketches and drafts he had on his desk.

“Oh, no, no,” Castiel hurriedly gathered the pages. “No, these are not… these are… mine. They’re not for work.”

“Okay, boss,” Becky shrugged. “Cup of coffee?”

“That would be lovely, thank you,” Castiel said, as he hid away his drawings. “And you don’t have to call me ‘boss’, Becky, I’ve told you!”

“Sure, boss. BRB!” Becky said, and bounced away towards the coffee machine.

“She’s the joy of the artistic department,” Pamela commented, popping her over Castiel’s monitor.

“She’s been very helpful, indeed,” Castiel commented, turning his attention back at the screen.

“Cas,” Pamela called him again. “This is beautiful.”

Castiel looked up to find out Pamela was holding one of his drawings, and his face turned every shade of red before he could react.

“That’s not… that’s just… it’s a…”

“Who is she?” Pamela asked, and turned the drawing so Castiel could see it. He was relieved to see it was one of the more innocent ones.

“That’s… my girlfriend, Meg,” Castiel explained, still flustered.

“Well, you lucky dog,” Pamela gave him a friendly punch on the shoulder, and looked back at the portrait again. “You lucky, talented dog. This is really good. I didn’t know you draw. Artistically, I mean.”

“I hadn’t done it, in a while,” Castiel said, even more flustered by the compliment. “Meg encouraged me to pick it up again recently.”

“It’s so great you have someone,” Pamela smiled. “You know what I did last Saturday night? I stayed in bed with a bad case of hay fever. Freaking spring. Even plants have a better love life than I do!”

Castiel chuckled, and the he figured he could do something for Pamela. She was his friend, after all.

“Oh, well, you know, my sister’s boyfriend, Dean, he’s having a party this weekend at his bar,” he told her. “Maybe you should go. I could introduce you to my brothers… or to some of Dean’s friends…”

“Your brothers are single?” she asked.

“Perpetually so.”

“Then say no more, I’ll be there!” Pamela decided, with a barely contained expression of joy. “You should invite Charlie, too. The kid needs some social interaction beyond her LARPing game, or whatever is that called…”

Castiel was about to ask what was “LARPing”, when there was a loud bang coming from Zachariah’s office.

“This is an INSULT!” Zachariah’s voice echoed through the whole floor. “You CANNOT do this!”

Castiel and Pamela exchanged confused looks before standing up and approaching the gathering crowd of people who were probably wondering the same thing as them. Zachariah had come out of his office, his normally composed and impeccable appearance all tattered, his disappearing hair pointing in every direction, as he gesticulated madly and screamed at the top of his lungs.

“I have worked for this company FOREVER!” he was shouting at Bela, who stood there, looking at him stoically. “You CANNOT fire me!”

“I can, and I have, and I’ll do it again,” Bela answered, undaunted, with her arms crossed over her elegant suit. “Please, Zack, you’re making a fool of yourself…”

“No, no, YOU are the fool!” Zachariah yelled. “This is NOT the end of this, you cockney bitch! You can expect a phone call from my LAWYERS!”

“Make it so, Zack,” Bela said, seemingly more amused than frightened by the threat. “I’m just dying to stomp on you like the maggot you are.”

Zachariah looked like he wanted to add something else, but his face was so red and his mouth just hanged opened mouthing wordlessly, like a fish out of the water.

“Do you think he’s having a stroke?” Castiel asked Pamela, concerned.

“Who cares?” Pamela said. She was obviously overjoyed to see their –now former – boss publically humiliated, and Castiel had to admit, deep down, so was he.

“You bitch!” Zachariah repeated. “You… you bitch…!”

“How very eloquent,” Bela said. “Do you need someone to escort you to the exit, or do you think you’ll be able to find it alone?”

Zachariah made an attempt at another insult or threat, but all that came out of his mouth was an inarticulate sound. Finally, he turned his back, and sloppily walked towards the elevator, muttering an irritated “Out of my way!” at the crowd of ex-employees who were watching the whole scene unfold. Only when Zachariah’s burning rage was out of the picture did Castiel realize what exactly had just happened.

While everybody else returned to their jobs, whispering and giggling, Castiel found his way towards Charlie, who was standing petrified at the door of Zachariah’s ex-office.

“Hey, are you okay?” he asked, putting a hand on her shoulder.

“I-I’m not sure,” Charlie stammered. “I… my job, I…”

Before she could say anything else, Bela Talbot was standing next to them.

“Charlotte, is it?” she asked Charlie, her voice sounding much kinder than before.

“Y-Yes… Charlotte Bradbury,” Charlie said. She was at the edge of tears. “Please, don’t fire me too…”

“I’m not firing you, I’m promoting you,” Bela said, simply. “You’re now  _my_ PA.”

“Am I?” Charlie asked, opening her eyes wide. “Really?”

“Starting tomorrow,” Bela said. “So today you can take the rest of the day off.”

“Oh, thank you!” Charlie exclaimed, and before any of them realized what was happening, she threw her arms around Bela and gave her a tight hug. “Thank you very much!”

“You’re welcome,” Bela said, patting her on the back. “Just, uh… go.”

“Thank you!” Charlie repeated, and after waving Castiel goodbye, she picked up her laptop, and left.

Bela shook her head, a half smile in her lips, and then she realized Castiel was still standing there. “Need anything, Abbot?”

“No, Miss Talbot,” Castiel said, in his most respectful tone.

Although, he wanted to thank her too: admittedly, he might have been a little bias towards her, but Bela had done a good thing for Charlie. Perhaps their new boss wasn’t so bad after all.

 

* * *

 

 

"Or that’s what she wants you to think before she takes out the knife and slits your throat,” Meg said when he told her about his day on the phone.

Castiel had to recognize maybe Bela wasn’t the best topic to cheer his girlfriend up after she had obviously had a rough day with the auditions. She hadn’t been rejected, but there was going to be a callback the following week, and this time she was going head to head against Mervin’s former favorite: Ruby. Castiel understood why she sounded a little bit depressed and was talking about knives and throat-cutting.

“You know her better,” he said. “Hey, don’t be sad. You’re going to kill it at the callback.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Meg answered, and Castiel had the impression she wasn’t really listening to him.

“Do you want me to come over?” he offered. They hadn’t really been together at Meg’s apartment in a while, and she had a bunch of things laying around at his place, but Meg would still chose to spend some afternoons at hers.

“Another time,” Meg said. “I think I’ll just watch a movie and tuck into bed early.”

“Very well. I’ll pick you up on Saturday, then.”

“Saturday?” Meg repeated, confused.

“Dean’s party,” Castiel reminded her.

“Right, of course,” she said, and Castiel could almost see her put her hand over her forehead, like she did when she forgot something. “Uh… maybe it’s best if we just meet there?”

“Oh… alright,” Castiel said, surprised by that sudden change of plans. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah… no, actually, I need to talk to you about some… stuff,” she said. Castiel felt a kick in his stomach. He didn’t like the sound of that. “But it can wait.”

“W-What stuff?” Castiel asked.

“It’s better if we talk about it face to face,” Meg said.

_Why? Are you mad at me? Did I do something? Did I say something? What’s wrong?!_

Castiel remained silent, not sure of what to ask. Meg apparently took that as a cue that the conversation was over.

“Goodnight, Cas.”

“Goodnight, Meg,” Castiel answered, but he wasn’t sure she heard him: before he finished it saying, Meg had already hang up.

Castiel had to fight the urge to call her back immediately. It surely was nothing. If it were something bad, Meg would have told him right away, wouldn’t she? She had always been so blunt and honest with him… but that was exactly the reason he was anxious. It just wasn’t like her to drop the “we need to talk” bomb and let him guessing what the problem was. Amelia had done that a couple of times, right before their whole marriage went to hell, but Meg wouldn’t do that. Meg was all for communication and clear boundaries, and… and, oh, God, he hoped he hadn’t screwed up!

Anyway, in the end, he gained nothing by worrying about it before it was due. Whatever it was that Meg needed to talk about, they would talk about it when she felt comfortable. And they would figure it out together. They had a good thing going; they weren’t just going to give up on it on the first bump on the road, were they? Of course not. No need to lose any sleep over it.

Sure enough, Castiel did not sleep a wink that night. 


	28. Chapter 28

There was a moment that Saturday night when Castiel could have sworn he had imagined that dreadful conversation on the phone, and that everything was as fine as it could be.

Meg was already there when he arrived with Gabriel, Balthazar, Charlie and Pamela. Dean didn’t make her wait tables that night (in fact, there seemed to be a drink-whatever-you-can-get-your-hands-on-I-don’t-even-care kind of deal going on) but it still took several minutes for Castiel to get to her. And when he did, she smiled at him and hugged him very tight. He felt immediately relieved: she was obviously happy to see him. So, he hadn’t done anything wrong. He hoped.

Also, the music was extremely loud, so any kind of serious conversation in that context was immediately discarded.

“Dance with me!” Meg whispered in his ear.

“I’m… not much of a dancer,” Castiel excused himself. She just laughed, and dragged him to improvised dance floor that had been formed around the pool table.

And yes, for a few hours, Castiel forgot all about the ominous feelings that had kept them awake those nights ago. He forgot about Bela announcing Zachariah was only the first of the many heads she was planning on making roll. Forgot about the thousandth fight he’d had with Amelia about Claire and the time she was spending with his girlfriend. Forgot that Gabriel had systematically broken the hearts of every woman he ever dated, and that maybe introducing him to Pamela was not the best idea.

All of his worries, all of his fears were gone for one glorious night, as he just immersed in the music, the movement of Meg’s body in front of him he could barely keep up with, and the few drinks Dean passed them when they made a pause by the counter.

“Having a good time, Cas?” Dean asked him. Castiel, too breathless to scream loud enough for Dean to hear him, just nodded. It was strange, since this wasn’t normally his idea of fun, but he was. Especially with Meg standing close next to him, her head marking the rhythm of the deafening guitars invading the air. “Glad to hear it. Hi, there, Sammy! Where’s the wifey?”

Sam, who had obviously lost Jess somewhere in the crowd, just shook his head. “Hey, is that your brother?” he asked Castiel.

Gabriel was standing on top of a chair at the other end of the Den’s, yelling something at the crowd, who seemed to agree enthusiastically with whatever he was saying.

“I’m sorry,” Castiel said. He didn’t know what Gabriel was doing, but it was probably better that he apologized in advance.

“Didn’t you get in a fight with that guy, Sam?” Dean asked, frowning. “In New Year’s Eve?”

“Yeah, he was flirting with Jess!” Sam remembered.

“That was you?!” Meg shouted. “Dude, you totally c-blocked us! We were having sex in the deposit!”

“Okay, I’m officially removing your key privileges,” Dean said. Meg just leaned her head on Castiel’s shoulder, letting out a long chuckle of pure joy, and even though Castiel would’ve preferred to keep his private encounters, well, private, he couldn’t help but to smile.

"Come on, Clarence,” Meg said. “Let’s get the fuck out of this joint!”

Crossing the Monster’s Den proved to be a life-threatening quest, with Gabriel now gulping the content of a bottle of what appeared to be vodka as the crowd cheered him on, and several dancers in different states of intoxication coming their way, but Meg managed to guide Castiel towards the door without having anything or anyone falling on them. Castiel caught a glimpse of Charlie (who else could have been with that brilliant red hair?) talking very intimately with a tall brunette woman before the cool spring breeze made him realize they were out of the bar.

“Why are we…?” he started, but Meg’s lips interrupted him. And all words seemed superfluous from that point on. If Castiel thought they were going to “talk” tonight, he was obviously mistaken, and not particularly regretful about it.

The backseat of his car wasn’t the most comfortable place in the world for make-out session, but he barely noticed before Meg started kissing his neck, both legs spread over his lap. Castiel’s hands found his way under her blouse, and without any hesitation, unclasped her bra to win better access at the softness of her skin. Meg moaned softly.

“You are becoming more daring, Clarence,” she said.

“Do you… like that?” Castiel asked, insecure.

“Not sure I  _don’t_ like that,” Meg chortled.

Her fingers were cold against his back, and the friction in his pants was becoming a bit overwhelming. Meg moved ever so slowly, pressing against his erection with maddening precision, and for a moment, Castiel thought he was going to come embarrassingly fast.

“Meg…” he muttered against her skin.

“I love it when you say my name like that,” Meg sighed. “It sounds like a prayer… it’s almost sinful, you know?”

“What… what thing?” Castiel stuttered. It was very hard for him to focus, but he made his best.

“You,” Meg said. The usual playful tone in her voice was gone, replaced by a deep lust-filled whisper that only worsened Castiel’s concentration problem. “Everything about you. The way you are nice and gentle and innocent-looking… but I know you better.” She leaned closer, so Castiel could feel the curves of her breasts against him. “I know how you like being used. I know what kind of depraved mind you have. You are  _so_ very naughty deep inside, aren’t you, Clarence?”

“Y-Yes…”

“Yes what?”

“Yes, Mistress,” Castiel said. “Yes, I’m a naughty boy…”

“And what do naughty boys deserve?”

“P-Punishment,” Castiel stuttered.

Exasperatingly slow, Meg unbuttoned his jeans and slid a hand inside, finally paying attention to the part of Castiel that was most craving for it.

“Do you want this, Clarence?” she asked, teasing him. Castiel, whose lungs were painfully empty, could only nod in response. “How much you want it?”

“V-Very much,” Castiel said. “Mistress, please…”

Meg began stroking him, up and down, almost lazily, at the same time she pressed kisses along his collar bone and told him how much of a bad boy he was, telling him he didn’t deserve to come, he didn’t deserve Mistress to be nice to him. Castiel completely forgot about caressing her, and all he could do was moan, and beg, and try to control himself. She noticed, of course.

“Let go, Cas,” she muttered. “Just let go…”

And he did. He surrendered completely at her will, and spiraled down into his orgasm with watery eyes and a thumping heart. He held on to her, breathing in the maddening scent of her perfume mixed with her sweat, and closed his eyes.

And for a second there, he was sure there was nothing to worry about.

There was a knock on the glass, and Castiel jumped, but didn’t have time to stop Meg from rolling down the (Castiel blushed furiously) misty window.

“Hello,” Balthazar was standing outside, completely indifferent to seeing his brother with his pants unbuttoned and his girlfriend in his lap. “Hope we’re not interrupting anything.”

“Of course not,” Meg assured her, and stretched her hand out the window. “Hi, I’m Meg. You must be Pamela.”

“Yes, hi,” Pamela shook Meg’s hand, seemingly both amused and a little uncomfortable. “Cas’ told me lots about you.”

“Not all bad, I hope,” Meg said, with a smile and a wink. How the hell could she joke when Castiel’s face was about to burst into flames?!

“Pam and I are going home,” Balthazar said. “I’m letting you know because someone must keep Gabriel from falling on his head and breaking his exceptionally thick skull. Anna is on it, but she’s rather pissed you’re depriving her of the opportunity of doing with her boyfriend exactly what you two are doing here.”

“Don’t worry, we’re done,” Meg replied. “We’ll make sure Gabriel doesn’t die.”

“Thank you, Meg, you’re a sweetheart,” Balthazar grinned, and turned to Pamela. “Shall we?”

Castiel wasn’t completely surprised when his brother put an arm around his co-worker’s waist possessively, and they walked away very close to each other, searching for a cab.

“I really hope this doesn’t backfire somehow,” he said, and only realized he’d done it out loud when Meg chuckled.

“I’m still waiting for Dean and Anna to backfire,” she confessed, and began searching for her bra.

“You know… w-we don’t have to go back so fast,” Castiel said. “I-I mean…”

“No, Balthazar’s right,” Meg found the bra, and somehow managed to put it back on without removing her shirt. “After all, Gabriel has a knack for getting himself in trouble…”

“That he does,” Castiel admitted. “But that’s not the reason… it’s just…you haven’t, well…” he cleared his throat, not sure how to bring up the matter. Meg looked at him, confused.

“I haven’t what?” she asked.

“You, uh… you haven’t…” Why was it suddenly so hard for him to speak? His tongue was heavy and clumsy, and honestly he feared he might choke on it. “You-haven’t-finished,” he let out finally, rushing the words through his teeth.

Meg giggled. “Oh, my knight in shining armor,” she laughed, and kissed him on the cheek. “Don’t worry about that. Let’s just make this one about you, okay?”

Castiel forced himself to meet her gaze and smiled. “Can I… make it up to you later?”

“Not tonight,” Meg said, while she opened the door. “And we still have to talk.”

Castiel froze, with one foot inside the car and the other on the outside. She hadn’t said it with a warning tone, nor had she sounded angry. It had been more of factual statement, like it was inevitable that they “talk” about whatever the hell they needed to “talk”.

“What about?” he asked.

“What?” Meg said, distracted.

“Is everything okay?” Castiel asked. “Is there something I should know?”

“Yes, there is something you should know,” Meg said. “But do you want to do this now? We’re in the middle of a party.”

“You brought it up,” Castiel pointed. “Could you, please, just tell me what’s wrong?”

Meg’s face had an incredulous expression, like she couldn’t believe he was pressing the point at that moment. Castiel only wished she put him out of his misery.

“Okay,” she said, crossing her arms defensively. “I think we should slow down a bit.”

“What?” Castiel had heard her right, he just didn’t understand what she meant.

“Just that, we should slow down in the whole boyfriend-girlfriend area,” Meg said. “Tone down the sneaky ‘I love you’s, for example. They make me nervous.”

Castiel took a moment to regain his thoughts. When exactly had he said it out loud…? Oh.

“Are you… blaming me for the way the audition went?”

“No, not at all,” Meg said. But she was at her feet, and Castiel realized he didn’t quite believe her. “It’s just… I’ve told you, many times, I’m not where you are, Cas.”

“I’m sorry,  _where_ am I, exactly?” he asked. It sounded a bit more aggressive than he meant, and he immediately regretted it when Meg gave him an irritated look.

“You’re in Marry-Me-And-Be-The-Mother-Of-My-Children Town,” she said, sharply, “whereas I’m in Why-Can’t-We-Just-Fuck City.”

There was something about the way she said that was incredibly hurtful, and Castiel let a few seconds pass, stood up very slowly, and took a couple deep breaths to prevent his frustration from getting the best of him. He still sounded louder and angrier than he meant when he spoke again.

“Why can’t we just fuck? Because that deal doesn’t work for us anymore, Meg, and you know it,” he said. “You’ve known it for a while.”

“Yes, and that’s exactly the problem!” Meg snapped. “I said I wasn’t ready for a committed relationship, I’ve been saying it from the start.”

“I thought we were passed that…”

“Well, you thought wrong,” she said, harshly. “You’ve been pushing me into this…”

“I didn’t push you into anything! In fact, I’ve been walking on eggshells trying not to push you so you wouldn’t leave!” Castiel said, and only when Meg took a step backwards he realized he’d been shouting. “I’m sorry… actually, you know what? I’m not sorry. I’m not apologizing for what I feel. I love you, and that’s the way it is.”

Meg stared at him in stunned silence, and Castiel pinched his nose, furious with her and himself in equal measure.

“That’s not how I’d planned to say it,” he muttered. It had sounded all wrong. It had sounded like he was trying to force his feelings on her, and that was about the stupidest thing he could have done, but it was too late. He braced himself for what was coming next.

“ _You_ need to get a little perspective,” Meg said. She wasn’t screaming, but her low tone was brimming with rage, and that was ten times worse. “You’ve only known me for less than five months. How  _much_ can you really love me?”

“Meg…”

“Would you be willing to risk your job for me, if Bela found out about us?” she asked. “Would you be willing to let your daughter get hurt if things go wrong with your wife? Would you turn your back on your family…?”

“How can you ask me something like that?” Castiel interrupted her, unable to understand the reason behind those questions. What was she asking? For him to make her top priority in his life? That wasn’t fair.

Meg just nodded her head, visibly annoyed. “I should have run away the moment you told me I was only the second woman in your life,” she said. “You are Mr. Hopeless Romantic, and all love stories must have a happy ending. Get real, Cas! That is  _not_ where this is heading.”

“How could you know? You’ve fled any and all relationships you’ve ever had the minute things got a little too serious!” he accused her.

“Well, you got that right,” Meg said, in a tone so loaded with rage it made Castiel shimmer.

And then she turned around and started to walk away.

“Meg,” he called her. “Come on, where are you going?”

“I’m fleeing, Cas!” Meg answered, bitterly. “Isn’t that what I’ve always done?”

Before he could stop her, she beckoned for a taxi that just so happened to be running down the empty street, and got into it. Castiel watched it disappeared on the darkness of the avenue, with a sense of terrible despair creeping inside his heart.


	29. Chapter 29

The hours between the time Meg left and the time Gabriel was finally drunk enough to let Castiel dragged him to the car were a torture.

Anna cast a confused look in Castiel's direction when she saw him come back without his girlfriend, but didn’t have time to ask anything: she had taking to helping Dean behind the counter, and they were both too busy to pay attention to him. He spotted Charlie, but she approached him only to tell him she was leaving with Glinda, the brunette Castiel had seen her talking to, so she wouldn’t be needing that ride home after all. Castiel nodded, and wondered if everybody in the world was getting luckier than him that night.

With no one to talk to, and all his misery weighing on him, he found a table in the most hidden corner of the bar and sat there. He was tempted to follow Gabriel’s example and drink until he passed out, but somebody had to drive. He hated being so responsible sometimes. He watched people dance and have fun, feeling as left out as a penguin in the desert.

At last, the sea of dancers opened up because some dude has just spectacularly stumbled on a table. With a jump, Castiel realized the guy was Gabriel, and that the music had just stopped. Anna was rushing to his aid, and Castiel stood up to do the same.

“Oh, come on, Winchester!” Gabriel screamed. “Keep it going, man, this’ just getting started!”

“… you’re drunk,” Anna was saying when Castiel reached them. “We need to get you home.”

“Hell, yeah, I’m drunk, that’s the whole point,” their brother slurred. “Come on, sis, we’re having a good time! Cas! Cas is having a good time!”

Without replying, Castiel grabbed Gabe’s right arm, as Anna did the same with the left, and they half-led, half-pushed Gabriel towards the door. He was drifting in and out by that point, so he didn’t resist much.

“I have to stay and help Dean clean up,” Anna told him while they practically shoved Gabriel into the backseat. “Can you handle him?”

“Of course, don’t worry…”

“It smells like cum in here,” Gabriel complained, before collapsing. Castiel hoped Anna didn’t notice how red his face had surely gotten.

“Text me when you get there,” his sister sighed, and Castiel knew she was resisting the urge to roll her eyes.

“Where are we going?” Gabriel muttered after a while.

“My apartment,” his brother said, taking a quick look at him in the rearview mirror before paying attention to the street again.

“I don’t wanna go to your apartment. You probably built a dungeon there, with chains and all sort of weird kinky things,” Gabriel groaned. “At least take me home…”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Castiel cleared his throat, awkwardly. “Balthazar has someone over.”

“Huh, the sly son of a bitch,” Gabriel said, and there was a tone of pride in his voice. “Wait, I was supposed to have someone over too… whatever happened to Paula?”

“Pamela,” Castiel corrected him, and thanked God she had left with the other brother.

“Her,” Gabriel said. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, she was smoking hot and I do appreciate you trying to hook me up, but… you know… she wasn’t Khali.”

Castiel parked the car in front of his building, not entirely sure he wanted to hear what’d come next. But there was no way to shut Gabriel up all the way into the apartment.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me, Cas,” Gabriel said. “I keep thinking about her lately. At first I thought it was the rut, you know, that as soon as I got laid once or twice I would forget about her, like I always do, but… I just… can’t get her off my head.”

“Yeah, okay, Gabe,” Cas breathed, because Gabriel was now leaning with all his weigh against him. “Let me just get the keys…”

“Sometimes I do that, you know… that thing I did with Blondie,” Gabriel said, and Castiel was surprised to discover he did remember something about that night. “I tell ‘em our tragic story and how I’m all brokenhearted about this long lost love. Chicks dig that big time, you wouldn’t believe.”

“You don’t say,” Castiel sighed, as he let Gabriel fall on the couch.

“I mean, it’s not entirely an act,” Gabriel confessed. “I  _do_ miss her a lot. She was so sophisticated, and clever, and…”

Castiel never found out what other wonderful things Khali was, because he went into the room to get a blanket and a pillow for his brother. When he came back, Gabriel was still talking.

“… and she’s divorced now,” he was saying.

“How do you know that?” Castiel asked, frowning, as he helped Gabriel get rid of his shoes.

“I… google her now and then,” Gabriel admitted. “She’s a big shot medical engineer, or something, groundbreaking inventions for surgeries and such… brilliant and beautiful, she was the whole package…”

“Yeah, I know,” Castiel said.

Although he hadn’t really interacted much with Khali back in college, he did remember her dedication to her studies and Balthazar wondering out loud what was she doing with Gabriel, who wanted to step on the campus as little as possible. Everybody knew it wasn’t going to end well.

“Well, you shouldn’t dwell on the past, Gabe. Get some sleep.”

“Yeah,” Gabriel laid down on the couch, and closed his eyes. Castiel was about to leave the room, when his brother spoke again. “Don’t let her go, Cas.”

Castiel stopped in the middle of the living room, startled.

“What?”

“Meg,” Gabriel said. “That thing they say that if you love something you gotta let it go is bullshit. Learn from your big brother’s mistakes… don’t  _ever_ let her go.”

“Of course, Gabe,” Castiel said. He didn’t know whether Gabriel had sensed something was wrong or if it was just drunk talk, but he was shocked nonetheless. “Good night.”

Gabriel muttered something else, but Castiel didn’t catch it. He brushed his teeth, and put on his pajamas very slowly, refusing (as he had been refusing all night) to think about the fight. He managed to keep doing that until he was in bed, staring at the cold ceiling, with Meg’s side of the bed perfectly made.

He texted Anna, and, reluctantly, glanced at the hour. It was four o’clock in the morning.

What the hell was he doing? He was a thirty-one year old man with a daughter, dammit! He wasn’t supposed to be partying this late, or come home dragging his intoxicated brother like he’d done so many times when they were younger. He wasn’t supposed to be sneaking with his girlfriend for a handjob in the car, and he certainly wasn’t supposed to be fighting with said girlfriend about the status and geography of their relationship. He didn’t need that kind of drama on his life.

All he really wanted to do was text or call Meg, but he knew it wasn’t a good idea. It was late, and he needed to let things cool out a bit. He really had nothing better to do, so he started counting in his head all the things he needed from a relationship. First and foremost, he needed someone who would care for his daughter, which Meg did, true. He needed someone who would get along with his family, which Meg had come around to do, after the whole Anna incident. Someone who would respect his job and the weariness that sometimes came with it (check), someone who would accept Amelia would always be part of his life as Claire’s mother (check), someone sexually compatible (definitely check).

Castiel’s despair seemed to increase ten times when he realized Meg had everything he could ask for in a girlfriend. So what was the problem?

He wanted someone who would stay. Someone who didn’t make a fuss about staying over, someone who would let him spoil her, take care of her. Someone he could have fun with, someone...

Oh, what the hell, Meg was perfect. Even if she’d only said she loved him while drunk, even if she wouldn’t hear it from him. All of those issues were just… growing pains. They could get over them. It’d been just one stupid fight, a necessary fight, even, because they both had to be comfortable with their pace. So what if he was a little further into I Want to Share My Life with You Town? He would wait for her to catch up. He could do that.

He certainly wasn’t planning on letting her go.

 

* * *

 

 

The next morning, Castiel woke up to the sound of Gabriel throwing up loudly in the bathroom.

“Good morning,” he greeted his older brother, who was holding on to the toilet for dear life. “Coffee and bacon?”

“Fuck you,” Gabriel said, before throwing up some more.

“Yeah, you can come when you’re ready,” Castiel said, and went on to prepare the greasiest breakfast he could manage.

By the time Gabriel could stand and take his ass to the dining room, Castiel was already on his second cup of coffee, and planning and apology to Meg in his head.

“Ah, shit,” Gabriel muttered, as he devoured slice after slice of bacon. “Wasn’t I supposed to hook up with your hot co-worker?”

“Balthazar took care of that,” Castiel said.

“Well, it probably is for the best,” Gabriel said, without his usual enthusiasm. “Maybe he was right… I’m getting too old for this.”

Castiel actually felt a bit sorry for him.

“You know, you could get in touch Khali…”

Gabriel almost dropped his fork.

“Khali?” he repeated, obviously trying to sound indifferent. “That was ages ago, Cas, why would I want to get in touch with Khali? I’ve moved on, she’s probably moved on…”

“You said last night she was divorced,” Castiel reminded him.

“No, I didn’t,” Gabriel said, and there was a slight trace of threat in his voice. He cleared his throat. “Out of curiosity… what else did I  _not_ say?”

“Just that you cyber-stalk her and you haven’t moved on an inch,” Castiel informed him, and Gabriel hit his forehead against the table. “Is that why you sleep around so much?”

“No, that is not…!” Gabriel said; his face a perfect shade of crimson. “You tell someone and you won’t live to watch your daughter graduate.”

“Okay,” Castiel shrugged. “I won’t tell anybody you’re a closeted sentimental who’s still hung up on his college girlfriend.”

“When you put it like that, it sounds even worse,” Gabriel groaned, and continued to attack the bacon like it was talking shit about Khali.

“Fine, you gotta go,” Castiel said, finishing his coffee. “I have to do some shopping.”

“Oh, come on,” Gabriel protested. “You won’t even let me crush on your couch a little longer so I can wait for Balt to say goodbye to his hook-up? Just until you come back?”

“No,” Castiel said. “Meg and I got into a little bit of a fight last night. I have to make it up for her. And honestly, I don’t trust you enough to leave you alone in my apartment.”

“When the hell did I become the only single Abbot?” Gabriel asked in despair. “It’s gonna be me, right? I’m gonna be the bachelor uncle the nieces come to when you won’t let them do something? Man, nothing against your kid, but I don’t even like kids!”

“Gabriel,” Castiel sighed, and made sure his brother was looking at him so he could read his lips. “ _Get in touch with Khali_ .”

“That is not going to happen,” Gabriel said. “No, sir, I ain’t gonna beg her. I didn’t do it then, and I certainly won’t do it now!”

“Whatever you say, Gabe,” Castiel shook his head, resigned to let his brother cling unto a decade long resentment. All he could do was now was prevent Meg and him from ending up the same way.

 

* * *

 

 

He refused to let his anxiety get the best of him while he waited for her to pick up the phone. She let it sound for so long he was sure she wasn’t going to answer. But, just before it got to voice mail, she did.

“Hey,” she said. She didn’t sound especially happy to hear him.

“Hey, it’s me,” Castiel said, his voice trembling slightly. “Look… I don’t want to fight. I’m sorry…”

“Can we not do this right now?” Meg interrupted him. “I didn’t sleep very well. I’m tired.”

“I understand, I just… I wanted to apologize,” Castiel said, and then realized it made no sense if she wasn’t really paying attention to him. “Can I call you later?”

“Sure, later’s fine,” she said, but didn’t sound very convinced about it.

So Castiel went shopping to let the morning slip by. His plan was to ask her to come for dinner, cook her favorite dish, maybe some flowers, maybe make up sex. He tried with all his might to shut up the little voice who kept saying he would wind up alone and miserable eating pasta in front of the TV.

The second call didn’t go any better.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” Castiel said, all the air leaving his lungs. She didn’t sound any more excited than she had that morning. “So, I was wondering… would you like to come here for dinner…?”

“I’m not really in the mood for that,” Meg said.

“You’re still mad,” Castiel said. It wasn’t a question.

“I just… I need some time, Cas,” she said. “I’ll call you, okay?”

Castiel ended the night exactly as he had feared.

 

* * *

 

 

Meg didn’t call the following day, or the one after that. Castiel did his best to convinced himself it wasn’t that bad, that it was better that they talked things out when they were both ready for it, that Meg didn’t react well to pressure, that calling her again was a bad idea, and going to the Monster’s Den to look for her was an even worse idea.

Still, after three days with no news, hitting up the bar after work was the only thing he could think of. Dean spotted him from behind the counter, and he didn’t seem surprise at all.

“I was wondering when you would show up,” he said, as Castiel sat on what was starting to become his usual spot. “How bad is it?”

“I don’t know,” Castiel sighed. “She won’t talk to me.”

“Whiskey bad, then,” Dean said, and poured him a shot. “Well, you won’t find her here. I’m pretty certain she’s going to quit one of these days.”

“But she loves this place,” Castiel pointed.

“Yeah, but she doesn’t have time to come around anymore,” Dean said. “Not with the auditions and such. It seems I’m going to have to get an  _actual_ waitress and  _actually_ pay her. I guess I have to thank you for that.”

Castiel played with his glass, staring at the amber liquid like it contained all the answers to all of the universe’s questions.

“Look, I’m not complaining,” Dean continued. “Meg’s the kind of person who needs a purpose to get out of bed, you know. For a long time, acting was that purpose. I think she’d forgotten that, and you reminded her of it.”

Castiel swallowed the whiskey, and convinced himself the tears that came to his eyes were product of the burning sensation of the alcohol coming down his throat.

“What I’m saying is, she’s better with you,” Dean said. “And I really do hope you work out whatever your problem is.”

Castiel offered him a sad half-smile. “Thank you, Dean. You are a good friend.”

He went to search for his wallet, but the bartender stopped him, saying that one was on the house. Castiel had the impression Dean pitied him a little.

On the drive back home, Castiel made a resolution. She couldn’t avoid him forever. He hated confrontation on principle (confrontation was, after all, what got him into this trouble in the first place), but if he didn’t hear from her tomorrow, he would go to her apartment, limits and pressure be damned. They needed to figure this out.

In the end, that proved to be unnecessary. When he opened the door to his place, Meg was sitting in the couch, waiting for him. 


	30. Chapter 30

Meg stood up the moment Castiel walked in through the door. Part of him wanted to run up to her, hug her, kiss her and thank her for being there, and another part of him wanted to grab her by the shoulders and yell at her for blowing him off. He decided to do neither, so he just froze in his spot, his pulse accelerating.

“Hello,” Meg said.

“Hello,” Castiel answered, forcing himself to sound calm, and turning around to close the door. When he looked back, Meg was still there, so at least he knew he wasn’t hallucinating.

They stared at each other in silence, a silence as dangerous as a loaded gun, and they were both waiting for the other to pull the trigger first.

“I’m… sorry I didn’t call you or came to see you before,” Meg said, at last. “I just… I was trying to find the right words for what I’ve got to say.”

Castiel opened his mouth, not sure of what to reply. Meg’s face was a painful sight. He had never seen her so serious and formal, like she was trying to conceal all of her emotions; when normally she was so expressive and open. So Castiel looked away. He looked down, and he noticed something that drained all the air from his lungs: at Meg’s feet, it laid her sleepover bag.

Full of the things Meg had been leaving there so she wouldn’t have to bring her sleepover bag anymore.

And Castiel understood what was going to happen. He understood it with the split-second clarity of a man who sees the bullet flying at his face.

“Meg,” he said, but there was nothing he could argue, nothing he could say to make her change her mind. She had reached a decision, and everything else was secondary.

She kept talking, but he was only half-listening.

“I can’t do this to you,” she said. “I can’t have you hanging on me, feeling the way you do, knowing I might never feel the same. It’s just not fair.”

“Please,” he pleaded, a lump forming in his throat. “Please, don’t…”

“It’s for the best, Cas,” she said. Her voice was so soft, her attitude so compose; as calm as a doctor breaking the inevitable bad news to someone.

Still, Castiel had the impression something was slowly breaking inside her, that there was a storm brewing in her eyes. He held onto that, onto the idea that she didn’t want this anymore than he did, than she was only leaving because she thought she was hurting him. When he spoke, his words were hesitant and clumsy:

“I-I don’t care. I’ll wait for you, I don’t mind… just… just, please…”

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m so, so sorry…”

“No,” Castiel said, and his feet seemed to move on their own volition, closing the gap between them.

He wanted to fight for her, he wanted to find a magic word to make her understand he didn’t care she didn’t feel the same, he didn’t care if she broke his heart a million times, as long as she stayed. They could figure it out together. But deep inside, he understood it was useless.

And it enraged him. He had been patience, he had advanced inch by inch towards the relationship they had now; he was willing to do his waiting. And she was throwing it all away, and breaking his heart in the process. How could she do that?

It was only when he felt the burning tears streaming down his cheeks that he realized he had just screamed all of that at her. And her only reaction was to nod, to remain in silence until Castiel was out of breath. That wasn’t right. She was supposed to be screaming as well, to be making some sort of sarcastic remark. But she had no interest in fighting, because no amount of fighting would make any difference. And that was so devastating Castiel couldn’t keep screaming anymore.

“You have every right to be mad at me,” she said.

Her voice quivered, only a little. Perhaps she was biting back her own anger, perhaps she was just as destroyed at Castiel was. But he couldn’t really see that. The ground beneath his feet was unstable and unreliable, or maybe it was just that his knees were trembling violently. Either way, he had to sit. He stumbled upon the couch, unable to articulate another word.

“I’m really sorry, Cas,” she said again, but this time, he didn’t quite believe her.

He looked at her manipulating her key chain, and it was like watching a catastrophe in slow motion. He just couldn’t look away.

“I guess you’ll want this back now,” she said, holding out what he knew was the key of his place.

He didn’t stretch his hand to receive it. He couldn’t bring himself to do it. After a few seconds in which neither of them moved, Meg lowered the key, and left it on the coffee table. She picked up her bag, and walked towards the door, without looking back. He thought he heard her murmur “Goodbye, Cas,” very softly, but he could have been wrong. There was a loud ringing in his ears and a thick, black fog clouding his mind.

The bullet had hit him, and he was bleeding to death on the pavement.

 

* * *

 

 

Later on, Castiel couldn’t quite recall how he had mana ged to move again, to speak again, to breathe again. At some point, he supposed he had decided to stop staring at the key on the coffee table, which shone mockingly under the lamp light; and take his misery into his bedroom. Once there, he toyed with his cell phone, thinking he needed to talk to someone, to tell someone what just happened, so they could comfort him and listen to him. But then he wasn’t sure that would make him feel any better.

 

Or maybe if he just didn’t talk about it, if it didn’t acknowledge it had happened, then it wouldn’t be real, it’d be just a nightmare and he would snap out of it eventually.

After what felt like hours, he resolved maybe he just needed to go to bed. He’d process all of this better in the morning, once he had rested. He put on his pajamas (slowly, because his fingers were trembling and his brain was numb) and went to the bathroom.

Now, Meg had done a pretty good job at erasing her presence of the apartment. She had taken all of the clothes she left there, the towel she had brought once because she was tired of using his; even her toothbrush and her makeup had disappeared.

Well, most of it, anyway.

When Castiel opened the bathroom’s cabinet, he found a small strawberry-flavored lip gloss tube.

And that, the smallest of all things, as it usually happens, was what broke him.

He spent the next forty five minutes sobbing over the sink, unable to collect himself.

 

* * *

 

 

“I can’t believe it.”

Anna’s words were like a slap on the face, because they resonated with the same feeling of incredulity that had been flooding Castiel since Meg closed the door behind her.

That Friday, Castiel had taken a sick day for the first time in years. He wasn’t going to; he was determined to go to work, and then spend Saturday with his daughter, just as planned. And then, maybe, allow himself some mourning on Sunday. Life went on. It wasn’t the end of the world. But then he’d woken up feeling like an eighteen wheeler truck had rolled over him  _twice_ , and he’d spent the morning and a big chunk of the afternoon randomly bursting into tears every couple of hours.

By the time Anna called, he had a tremendous headache and felt terribly guilty for not going to work, but at least the smothering pressure in his chest had lightened a bit. Luckily, she already knew about it, thanks to Dean, so Castiel didn’t have to explain anything.

“I can’t… Cas, why would she do that?” Anna asked.

“She said she didn’t want to hurt me,” Castiel sighed, sadly. “That she just… didn’t feel about me the same way I felt for her.”

“Oh, well, that’s a big pile of bullshit,” said Anna, indignant. “H-Hold on, Dean wants to talk to you.”

Castiel frowned. What could Dean possibly want to tell him?

“Hey, Cas,” said Dean. “How’re you holding up?”

“Barely.” Castiel hadn’t meant to sound so brutal, but his misery was getting all the best of him. He wondered how he was supposed to put on a smile for Claire tomorrow if he couldn’t even pretend to be alright on the phone.

“Yeah, I know how it can be. Girls are crazy sometimes… don’t look at me that way, Anna,” he said. “Anyway, Cas… buddy, look, I’m about to tell you something I really shouldn’t be telling you, and if it ever comes up, I will deny it was me who told you, okay?”

“Okay,” said Cas, only mildly intrigued.

“Meg loves you.”

The vigor and suddenness of the statement did nothing to improve Castiel’s mood.

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” he said, disheartened.

“No, listen to me, she does,” Dean affirmed. “I know her… probably better than anybody. Trust me, if she’d wanted to break up with you over commitment issues, she would have done so months ago. This isn’t about that.”

“What is it about, then?” Castiel asked, confused.

“She’s… going through a bit of a shit storm right now,” said Dean. “With the auditions and everything. Plus, her brother just presented another appeal.”

Castiel blinked several times, trying to get a grip on that information.

“Her brother… Lucifer?” he said, because now he realized he had never really got around finding out his real name.

“Yeah, the son of a bitch does that at least twice a year,” Dean said. “He calls Meg to let her know he might get out of the cage, and it just wrecks her. She starts pushing people away because she doesn’t want them in that mess. It’s always the same.”

A tiny spark of hope lit up in Castiel’s heart, but he suffocated as soon as he could. He still couldn’t keep himself from asking:

“So you think this is about her brother?”

“Well, it sure as hell ain’t about you,” Dean said. “Cas, she’s my friend. You’re my friend. I’m dating your sister. I wouldn’t lie to you, dude. You can still make her change her mind.”

The spark of hope lit up again, brighter and warmer than before, and this time Castiel held on to it with the same urgency and despair a drowning man would hold on to a piece of wood to keep him afloat.

“Thank you, Dean,” he said, because that was the only thought in his mind that made sense at the moment.

“You’re welcome, dude,” said Dean. “Just, uh… I’d wait until after the callback if I were you. Meg’s way too stressed about that to respond positively to anything but a ‘You got the part’.”

Castiel nodded, realized Dean couldn’t see him, and thanked him again. As soon as he hanged up, he started searching for the words he had failed to find the day before.

 

* * *

 

 

"Cas?"

"Uh, sure... right, Pamela," Castiel answered absent-minded. "Sorry, what did you say again?"

Pamela gave him a sardonic look. "Just that Balthazar and I are thinking about running away to Las Vegas to get married, no big deal..."

"Oh," Castiel said, distracted. "Oh, I didn't... I mean, I'm really glad you're happy and..."

"Okay, what's gotten into you?" Pamela asked, crossing her arms, as if to indicate she wasn't going to move until Castiel explained himself. "First you take a day off for the first time in... ever. Now you spend all morning staring at the clock. What's going on?"

Castiel bit his lip, nervous. He didn't want to vent his personal problems at work. But then again, the plan he had made to solve said problems included running away from work for an hour or two. He could trust Pamela. She was his friend.

So he told her about the fight, the break-up, Dean's opinion on the matter and the awkward conversation he'd to had with Claire over the weekend. As he'd feared, his daughter had blamed herself.

"Is it because I'm always asking her to watch movies with me?" she'd asked, at the edge of tears.

"No, princess, of course of not," Castiel'd said. "It's because Meg and I had a disagreement about something; you did nothing wrong."

"A disagreement about what?"

Castiel (who had sworn himself he would never do such a thing) had told her she would understand when she was older.

Pamela nodded, comprehensively.

"Okay," she said. "I'll help you."

"Really?"

"Of course," she said, smiling. "I owe you one, after all."

A little before twelve, Castiel walked towards the elevator, trying to act as casual as possible. Just before the elevator door, a perfectly manicured hand held it, and to Castiel's dismay, Bela stepped in.

"Going for your lunch break, Abbot?" she asked.

"Y-Yes," Castiel lied. Bela stared at him like she could read his mind. Like she could just tell he was planning on disappearing the rest of the afternoon. On crossing the town until he reached Broadway. On having a sincere heart to heart conversation with Meg that might or might not stretch for hours.

"So how are you doing?" she asked, after a pause. Castiel looked remembered he was supposed to have been sick just a few days before.

"Better," he said, looking towards the door, hoping his boss wouldn't notice the sudden blush on his cheeks.

"Good," Bela said. "I don't want any slackers around. That is not how business are done."

Castiel didn't answer, but took notice of the subtle threat. He promised himself that, if everything worked out (and even if he didn't) it was the last time he did such a thing.

Once on the lobby, he waited until Bela stopped paying attention to him, and got on his car. While he was being dragged away by the midday traffic, he wondered if he should have bought something (flowers, chocolate) and then decided against it. He wanted what he had to say to be as sincere and direct as possible.

The theater doors were opened, and inside he found a janitor who was kind enough to point him to the place where the callback was taking place. Castiel wandered down the hallway, feeling the anxiety building up in his stomach, rehearsing the words he had prepared inside his head. Right in front the door of the studio, he found a good looking olive skinned woman he recognized as Ruby Casidy, taking a smoke with a depressed expression.

"E-Excuse me," he asked her nervously. "I'm looking for Meg Masters."

"Oh, yes, I'm sure you are," she said, with a tone full of resentment. "You and everybody else in the world. You'll all be looking for her in no time."

"I'm sorry?" Castiel asked, confused.

"You're a reporter, aren't you?" Ruby asked, and before Castiel could clarify he wasn't, she went on: "Well, how is this for a little quote? You spend years building a name for yourself in this world; then someone prettier and younger comes along and they tell you she would make a fresher act than you, and throw you away like you're disposable."

She turned off the cigarette with a bitter smile, while Castiel processed her words.

"Meg got the part," he said, and even though he felt a bit sorry for Ruby, he couldn't hold back a beam. Meg deserved it. She had worked very hard for it.

"Oh, yes, she got the part, alright," Ruby's voice sounded angry. "How could she not get the part when she auditioned on her knees in front of the producer?"

Castiel stared at her in disbelief.

"I'm not sure I..."

"Oh, you understood me quite well," Ruby said. "I heard good old Azazael giving her the whole Indecent Proposal speech with my own ears, or else he'd give  _me_ the part. I was elated; I thought she was too proud to go for it. But here we are: I'm the understudy, she's the star. We can safely assume Azazel got his end of the deal too."

"No," Castiel said, shaking his head. "I know Meg. She'd never... She wouldn't..."

"Oh, of course she did," Ruby rolled her eyes. “Sorry to break it to you, but that’s how you get ahead in Broadway.”

She took a new cigarette, lit it up and blew some smoke directly on Castiel’s face. He coughed a little. The anxiety in his stomach had been replaced by a violent nausea.

“So, you want me to get her for you?” Ruby asked.

“No. No, that’s okay,” Castiel said, the nausea climbing up to his throat. “I’ll just, uh… talk to her later.”

He turned around, and headed for the door. He refused to admit he was fleeing. But of course, that’s exactly what he was doing.

 

* * *

 

 

“Cheer up, girl,” Mervin was saying, with his glass in the air. “You got it. You’re Tira!”

Meg smiled at him, without compromising. Yes, she’d gotten the part. But it didn’t feel like a victory at all. And she hated the bar they were in. She hated it because last time she’d been there; she had gone back to a certain place she expected to never step in again, to watch  _I’m no angel_ with a certain someone she didn’t expect to see again. Not after what she’d done, anyway.

“We have a lot of work to do, still,” Mervin kept saying. “If everything goes as I want it to, we can be opening in just a couple of months.”

“Nothing discourages you, does it?” Meg asked, trying (and failing) to sound happy.

“No, nothing at all, never,” Mervin said, and swallowed his whiskey, oblivious to her misery. “I need to go home and rewrite some pages of the script. I’m not offering you a ride, so I hope you have some other way to get home.”

“No, that’s okay,” Meg said. “I’ll just take the bus.”

All she wanted to do was take a long, warm shower, and then go to bed and sleep. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept a whole night. Bullshit, she did remember. She just didn’t want to think about it.

The day was strangely grey and cloudy, even though they were in the middle of May, and the people in the bus she climbed looked disillusioned and gloomy. Or maybe it was her mood she was projecting onto everything around her. She pressed her forehead against the window glass, and watched the sea of people roaming the streets. She wanted to shout at them, just for existing.

When the bus stopped at a red light, she thought she saw a man in a light brown trench coat, but, certainly, that was ridiculous. She must have imagined it.

She kept telling herself that until she was in her apartment, and finally could start sobbing in peace.


	31. Chapter 31

June and July came and passed like a breeze, blowing away the pollen Pamela complained so much about. The days became longer, and the nights so hot Castiel adopted the habit of sleeping in his boxers. Still, every now and then, he felt cold, and he rolled over to reach for someone who wasn’t there, only to find an empty space next to him. When that happened, no matter the time, he awoke right up and walked to the kitchen to make some coffee, knowing there was no case in trying to fall asleep again.

He supposed now that he was waking up at four in the morning, he might as well do something about it, so he took up running again, an activity he had neglected for a long time. During the first few weeks, his muscles felt sore and he was extremely tired when he went to bed.

That didn’t help with his insomnia, though.

The rest of his routine hadn’t changed at all. He went to the office, joked with Charlie and Pamela next to the water cooler, and avoided Bela at all costs. He finished several projects right before Carver Edlund showed up again with a manuscript, and told him he should read it so they could start working on the cover. Castiel huffed because he knew that would take up much of his time now, and that he would have Becky perching on his shoulder talking about how wonderful Carver was, trying to peek at the book. He decided he’d need his vacation very soon.

When he told Amelia, she was thrilled, and she didn’t hesitate on leaving Claire with him so she and Alistair could go on a trip to Cuba or somewhere similar. Castiel knew his ex wife would never have done that if she hadn’t found out he was single again, but he welcomed the distraction nonetheless.

He took Claire to visit all her uncles and aunts (she was especially delighted to meet Portia the afternoon they spent at Garth and Alfie’s), he took her to the park so she could make friends, he took her to museums, and libraries, and all sort of different spots in the city where they would just sit and watch the people come and go.

Sometimes, Castiel had his sketch book with him, and drew something, almost distracted. Claire, who had never seen her father draw, took and immediate interest in it, and Castiel bought her pencils and a brand new sketch book just for her. She was overjoyed, and he was full of pride.

On the afternoons, they drank cocoa and played puzzle wars, and read stories before going to sleep. Claire, who was turning seven in a couple of months, had obviously outgrown fairytales, and Castiel considered maybe it was time to start reading longer books with her. He had a lump on his throat the first time they opened  _Little Women_ .

On one occasion, Castiel fell asleep on the couch, while reading Carver’s manuscripts, and dreamt about a demon with long, wavy brown hair and a seductive smile who tried to rip his heart out. He screamed, and Claire woke him up with a concerned face.

“It was just a nightmare, princess,” he said, trying to smile.

“I didn’t know adults had nightmares too,” Claire said, with a pensive expression, like she didn’t know what to do with that information. Castiel couldn’t find a right answer, so he just hugged her, and let her sleep with him that night, like they did when she was the one with the nightmares.

In the entire two weeks, they didn’t watch movies. Not even once.

But he enjoyed his time with his daughter, and he returned to work relaxed, happier and ready to face whatever ridiculous demands Carver made. And since he was supposed to draw monsters, he figured the best way to find inspiration was to go to a place where he knew there’d be monsters.

Dean always received him with a smile, and a “How you doing, Cas?” He saved him a seat by the counter, where there was better light, and gave him a beer he never allowed Castiel to pay. Sometimes, if he wasn’t too busy, Dean would come over and chat with him. The bartender did most of the talking, telling him about Sam and how he had gotten a place at an important Bar, how he and Jess were planning on having a baby soon, how his mother, Mary, was the best cook in the world.

“She makes the best pies ever, you wouldn’t believe,” he said, and Castiel just smiled, and nodded.

Dean also talked about Anna, and how she was so cool, and how smart she was, and what great a singer she was. He told them about the concert they went to, and that he was thinking of asking her to move in with him. Castiel said Anna was lucky to have him, and he meant it.

Just the once his time at the Monster’s Den wasn’t so pleasant.

At first, Castiel was too entertained trying to get the angle of the wing of a gargoyle just right, not entirely taking heed of what Dean said, but then something caught his ear.

“… I mean, I thought you were going to talk to her, man, but she tells me you haven’t even texted her.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Castiel lifted his head.

“Meg, dude,” Dean said. “What happened?”

Castiel lowered his pencil, very slowly. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Dean sighed. “She says the same thing,” he told him. “Every time I mention I saw you, she’s all ‘I don’t want to talk about it’, and clams up.”

Castiel remained silent for a moment, fighting with all his might not to ask, but in the end, it turned out his will wasn’t as strong as he thought.

“So… h-how is she?” he said, hesitantly.

“She’s fine,” Dean said, slowly, like he was trying to determine what kind of information Castiel was looking for. “I don’t see her as much as I see you these days. She’s busting her ass on the play, you know. That Mervin dude sounds like a total exploiter.”

Castiel nodded. Judging by the short time he’d spent with Mervin, he didn’t expect any less.

“But she’s happy. She’s doing what she loves and all that jazz. I mean, she certainly looks happy, but…” Dean’s voice trailed off, like he realized he wasn’t supposed to say anything else.

The next question Castiel made was so awkward he might as well have someone plucking the words from his throat with a pair of pincers.

“Is… is she…? D-do you know if she’s…?” he stuttered, and cleared his throat. “Is she seeing anybody?”

“No,” Dean said. “To be honest, I think it’s gonna be some time before she gets back on the horse.”

“Oh,” Castiel said, and decided it would be a good idea to get out of the bar before his mind shut down completely and his tongue started shooting the canon load of questions he had been storing during all that time.

That week, his sleeping cycle got even more messed up than usual, and he was only able to catch a couple of hours now and then. He didn’t return to the Den until after a few days had passed, and when he did, Dean made no comment about his absence, served him his usual beer, and continued rambling about all sorts of seemingly unrelated topics while Castiel sketched and only half-listened.

They didn’t mention Meg again.

So, life went on. Castiel got some new jazz records (He couldn’t bring himself to listen to  _Ella and Louis_ again, which was a shame, since that used to be one of his favorites). He did his job (The misery he kept at bay so carefully seemed to be actually helping his creativity, since Carver only made him re-draw the cover art half a dozen of times). He rejected all of Gabriel’s invitations to go partying with him (which seemed to multiply, since Balthazar was actually dating Pamela now and Castiel was the only single brother Gabe had left).

Not everything was perfect, but when had it ever?

In the few rare occasions Castiel left his thoughts roam, he wondered whether he had done the right thing when he fled the theater like a dog with his tail between his legs. Ruby’s words had haunted him for weeks on end, and even now, when almost two months had passed, he felt a knot in his stomach every time he remembered her cynical smile and the smoke of her cigarette curling around her: “That’s how you get ahead on Broadway.”

He supposed he wasn’t being fair to Meg. She had made very clear she was a one-partner-at-a-time kind of person, and part of him believed that, loved him or not, she had appreciated him enough not to do that to him. Maybe he should have stayed. Maybe he should have listened to her side of the story. Maybe he had made a huge mistake by not trying to patch things up between the two. Even if Meg had told him she didn’t want them to get back together, at least he could have had some sort of closure on their relationship. In any case, it was too late now.

And then there was the fact that Castiel didn’t  _want_ to know. The possibility that he had let someone get so close to him, only to be betrayed again, terrified him. He had grudgingly admitted to himself, after weeks of self-denial, that what he had with Meg in those short months had been more honest, passionate and deep than what he had with Amelia in years of marriage, and therefore had the right to lose more sleep over the breakup than over the divorce. If he’d found out that Meg had actually slept with the producer during or right after her relationship with him, he would have been angrier than he was from discovering his ex wife in bed with another man.

He would also be more hurt. He was keeping it together, though barely, but the knowledge that he had been taken for a ride by the woman he loved a second time would have been a punch in the face, and he wouldn’t be able to come back from the knockout. While he didn’t know for sure, he could give Meg the benefit of the doubt; he could tell himself she was innocent until proven guilty. He could pretend that the breakup hadn’t been so bad; that it’d happened because the time for them wasn’t right, and that he really didn’t miss her all that much.

Except that he did.

He missed her so  _terribly_ sometimes it was hard to breathe.

 

* * *

 

 

Friday nights were the worst, by far. As soon as he left the office, the realization washed over him that he didn’t have his usual date with Meg. They wouldn’t be having as much sex as two people could possibly have in a couple of hours. She wouldn’t be tiptoeing into the apartment when her turn at the bar had ended, and snuggling with him under the sheets. He wouldn’t be waking up on Saturday to her sleeping sighs, and they wouldn’t be making coffee barefoot in the kitchen, waiting for Claire to come around so they could all watch a movie.

At first he had tried dealing with it by taking extra hours, but he had done his work so diligently lately there was actually not much he could do. Bela herself had told him to go home on one occasion, when she found him hunched over his desk, finishing some designs. Then he had gone out with Gabriel a couple of times, but that obviously didn’t end well, since Castiel had already dragged his brother’s drunken ass while listening to him mourn and complained about how much he missed Khali one too many times.

Lately, his distraction of choice was running, but that Friday, he had found a hole in one of his sneakers, so he had no more choice than staying at home and climbing the walls. He was wondering what was on TV when his doorbell rang, and standing right in front of him, was Gabriel with a pack of beers in his hands.

“Hello, Cas!” he greeted him, and sauntered into his apartment without waiting for an invitation.

“Gabe… what…?” Castiel asked, unable to do anything but look while his brothers kicked off his shoes and landed on the couch with a satisfied smirk. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, since you decided to annihilate your social life, I thought I paid you a visit, so we can have some quality brotherly time!”

Castiel figured out immediately what was going on. “Balthazar kicked you out, didn’t he?”

“More like he politely told me to get lost because he had a date,” Gabriel shrugged. “Can’t blame the guy, I’ve made him wait outside many times in my glory days.”

And he let out a nostalgic sigh. Castiel felt a bit sorry for him. He was his brother, after all.

“Alright,” he said, closing the door. “What do you have in mind? And please, tell me it doesn’t include strip clubs or other similar dens of iniquity.”

“Not that it would be so bad for you,” Gabriel said. “But no, I was aiming more for a quiet night in. We could make some pasta, watch a movie…”

“I’m not sure that’s a good plan,” Castiel said.

“Well, if you don’t feel like cooking for your favorite older brother _, the brother who took you in when your marriage fell apart and you had nowhere else to go_ , then we can order a pizza,” Gabriel said. “I don’t really mind.”

Castiel actually didn’t have a problem with cooking for Gabriel. He just didn’t want to watch movie. Any movie.

And also, he didn’t appreciate Gabriel trying to guilt him into cooking.

“How long are you going to hold that against me?” Castiel asked.

“Until the day I die, dear lil’ bro,” Gabriel notified him. Castiel didn’t expect any less.

They ordered a pizza, and they tried to watch the Adam Sandler comedy Gabriel had rented. But Castiel kept missing important plot points and getting distracted by the feeling Meg would have hated the whole thing. She would have criticized everything, from the makeup and costumes to the timing of the jokes. She would have been giving him a lecture on why the dialogue was weak, and comparing it to classics of the Golden era Castiel only knew by name. Near the end, he realized he felt incredibly uncomfortable, and wondered whether it was the poor script’s fault or if it was just that his ability to enjoy movies had been completely impaired.

Gabriel was on the other side of the spectrum, chewing pizza enthusiastically and laughing at every joke the characters cracked.

“Oh, Adam, you’re going to kill me,” he said, wiping the tears from his eyes. “He’s a comedic genius, isn’t he?”

Castiel thought Meg would’ve had a thing or two to say about that, but he simply nodded. Gabriel opened another beer and swallowed half of it without breathing.

“I love it how he always gets the chick that is so obviously way out of his league,” Gabriel said. “Kinda like you, Casie. I mean, if you don’t mind me saying, back in the day Amelia was a babe. And then you go and land Meg, who is not only a sexy bomb, but is also into kinky stuff. Do you realize how fucking lucky you are?”

“I guess,” Castiel said. He didn’t feel particularly lucky about either of those relationships.

Gabriel finished the beer, and wiped his mouth with his sleeve before letting out a burp. He had drunk five cans, and was staring at Castiel’s half empty glass with greedy eyes.

“You want me to let you into a little something?” Gabriel said. “We made bets.”

“I’m sorry?” Castiel frowned. “Bets on what?”

“On you and Meg, of course,” Gabriel said, nonchalantly. “Balthazar bet you would move in together before Alfie and Garth got engage. Anna bet you would be proposing right after Christmas. Dean…”

“Hold on, Dean’s in it too?” Castiel asked, flabbergasted.

“Dear Cas,  _Raphael_  was in it,” Gabriel said. “He bet you would finally introduce her to him during Balthazar’s birthday on September.”

Castiel didn’t know if he should be offended or amused. He opted for finishing what little beer was left on his glass.

“None of us bet on this,” Gabriel said. “That you’d be breaking up. It just seemed… meant to last, somehow.”

Castiel didn’t answer. His gaze had travelled, unconsciously, towards the key that still laid on the corner of the coffee table. He had never moved it from there.

“What’d you think happened?” Gabriel asked.

“I don’t know,” Castiel lied, because the truth was a bit more complicated than that.

“Well, I’ll tell you what,” Gabriel said. “You’re better off. Because now you can party with me all you want. Brotherhood!” he said, offering his fist for Castiel to bump. The younger man just looked at him in silence.

“You realize that’s very sad, don’t you?” he asked.

“Yeah, it’s quite pathetic,” Gabriel accepted, lowering the fist and turning to the screen. “Let me ask you something… given the chance, would you go back to her?”

Castiel was surprised by the tone of the question. Gabriel rarely stopped kidding long enough to have a serious conversation. The closest he’d ever got to actually know what Gabriel was feeling was when he was drunk out of his mind. Which Castiel didn’t think was the case now: with the amount of drinking Gabriel did every week, five cans of beer where like a refreshment to him.

“I don’t know,” Castiel said again, his eyes still on the key. He actually meant  _‘Of course I would,’_ but such a strong statement might scared Gabriel from telling whatever was that he was trying to tell him. “I know I don’t regret any of the time I spent with her,” Castiel added, and that was closer to the truth.

Gabriel nodded, distracted. He searched inside his pockets, and took out a piece of paper he presented Castiel. He unfolded and saw it was an e-mail address.

“What’s this?”

“Khali’s Skype,” Gabriel said. He was looking at the screen, but Castiel noticed the blush on his neck.

“Oh,” Castiel said. “You’re getting in touch with her?”

“Dude, I don’t know!” Gabriel complained. “I mean, it’s been years! It got pretty ugly near the end, what if she still hates me? Or worse, what if she doesn’t remember me at all?”

“You’re not an easy guy to forget, Gabriel,” Castiel pointed.

“Yes, it’s a problem,” Gabriel sighed, dramatically. “I just… I see Balthazar, and he’s so happy with Pamela… and then I see you, and you’re so wretched without Meg… and I remember how wretched  _I_ was after Khali and I broke up… and it’s just… what if the second time is worse, huh? I don’t think I can deal with that, Cas.”

Castiel nodded. At a certain level, he completely understood what his brother’s dilemma was.

“What would you do?” Gabriel asked. “If this was Meg, what would you do?”

“Honestly?” Castiel said. “I would have been on line the minute I got this.”

“But what if…?”

“Gabriel,” Castiel interrupted him. “As one of my dearest brother once said… you’ve been moping around for too long, could you  _please_ follow my advice so you can get some?”

Gabriel looked at him astonished for a second. Then he snatched the paper back from Castiel’s hand, as a wicked beam lit up his feature.

“See, I knew I was your favorite,” he said. “Can I use your computer?”

“Gabriel, it’s almost eleven…”

“Yes, but it’s almost seven a. m. in New Delhi,” Gabriel answered, already sitting at the table in front of Castiel’s laptop. “And Khali was always a morning person!”

 

* * *

 

 

“And he talked to her all night?”

Castiel couldn’t help but to smile at the squeal of delight Charlie let out when he told her the story.

“I don’t think he would have realized the sun was up if I hadn’t walked into the living room to tell him,” Castiel said. Both Pamela and Charlie seemed profoundly moved by the story.

“That is beautiful,” Pamela said. “That is a beautiful thing you did for your brother, Cas.”

“Well, lately it seems Cas does a lot of beautiful things for his brothers,” Charlie said, giving Pamela a little nudge. “You haven’t said a word about your date with Balthazar!”

“Should I be hearing this?” Castiel asked.

“He is a perfect gentleman,” Pamela said, apparently very pleased. “And I really enjoyed my time with him.”

“Details,” Charlie demanded. “I want details. Did you have sex yet?”

“I should  _not_ be hearing this,” Castiel decided, and he walked away from the water cooler whit Pamela and Charlie booing at him.

He had just sat at his desk again when Becky approached him.

“Boss, the Big Lady wants to see you,” she told him.

Castiel frowned, confused. What did Bela wanted with him? He had finished all his projects and taken a few more, he had not missed another day since he came back from his vacations, and he hadn’t abused the time he spent chatting with Pamela and Charlie. He marched into Bela’s office, not quite sure what to expect.

“Yes, Abbot,” Bela called him from behind her computer when she saw him standing at the door. “I need you to prepare some artwork for a play.”

“I’m sorry, Miss Talbot, but I already have several projects…” Castiel said. Not to mention it was highly irregular that it was Bela and not Naomi ordering him to do it.

“Delegate them, this one has priority,” Bela said, taking a piece of paper from the printer, and handing it to him. “We are going to need posters and programs, you know, that kind of deal. I expect you to do your best.”

Castiel glanced at the paper, and had to bite down the bitter laughter that rose to his throat. The play was  _I’m no angel_ .


	32. Chapter 32

They say time flies when you’re having fun. Well, then, Meg must’ve been having the time of her life, because she wouldn’t have realized it was August already if Mervin hadn’t told her.

“Just a few more weeks,” he kept repeating obsessively. “A few more weeks…”

Since the play was a straight comedy, it took a lot less time to prepare than a musical. And since Mervin Tron was the writer, and the director seemed to be just a cardboard cut that caved in to whatever commands Mervin gave, the time had been reduced to almost a half. The summer had slipped in front of Meg’s eyes in a whirlwind of feverish activity: she had to stop waiting tables at the Monster’s Den, she missed several of the summer classes at the Academy, and lately, it seemed like she went from the workshop to her apartment and nowhere else. She studied the pages of the ever-changing script before going to bed, both physically and mentally exhausted, and prepared herself for another day of contradicting directions and demands that didn’t make sense.

“Excellent, perfect!” Mervin would say. “Do it again.”

Sometimes she wanted to scream at him why the hell she needed to do it again if it had been perfect. But she’d seen Mervin arguing very loudly with all the other actors for the pettiest things, and knew that Mervin always got away with his in the end, so what was the point? She just did it again. She repeated her lines until she knew them better than Mervin himself; she even knew the lines of the rest of the cast.

If one of her friends had seen her rehearsing, they probably wouldn’t have recognized her. Her demeanor, her gestures, even her voiced changed completely. From eight o’clock in the morning until almost nine some nights, Meg disappeared, and Tira took over: a sassy, confident young lady the women envied and the men desired. It was more than just a technique or hard work: Meg gave herself body and soul to the part as a method of coping.

Coping with the side glances and the snickers she sometimes caught on the corner of her eyes from the other members of the cast. Coping with their silent contempt, their doubt; their subtle but nonstop sabotages: the messed up makeup, the torn costumes, the insistence that she was saying her lines wrong even though everybody knew she wasn’t, the refusal to go over that or this scene with her.

Meg knew Ruby was behind the hostility and the malicious gossip. She was still bitter after losing the part, and Meg pondered it couldn’t be easy to be a younger actress’ understudy, but it irritated her to no end Ruby was acting like a high school mean girl or a goddamn diva and not a fucking adult. So Meg decided to hold the higher ground and ignore it all, to keep doing her job at the best of her abilities, and the rest be damned to hell. It’s what Tira would do.

And, oh, God, did she need Tira.

She needed her to get up every morning, because who would really notice if she stayed in bed all day, wallowing in her grief? Who would miss her if she didn’t pick up the phone when she saw Jo’s or Dean’s number displayed on the screen? Who would care if she didn’t eat anything all day, until her head felt light and her limbs no longer responded correctly? Who would think she deserved a little better than constant badgering and disapproval for the things she had put, and kept putting, herself through for this role?

Tira. Tira would.

“You need to keep it together, honey,” Tira spoke from the mirror every morning. “You need to get out there and do your best. When we’re good, we’re good…”

“… and when we’re bad, we’re better,” Meg completed, with a sigh. She forced a smile, and went to the workshop, and kept her head held high, and acted like she didn’t have a single regret in life.

Alone at nights, that wasn’t as easy to fake, of course. Sometimes she hugged her pillow very hard, wishing it would magically turn into the person she wanted to see the most, that he would turn around and hugged her close, that he would bury his fingers in her hair, and kissed her forehead and tell her he was hers, only hers. And then she could fall asleep to the sound of his soft snoring, and wake up in the morning with their legs tangled tight, and see his dozy smile and his sparkling blue eyes.

That would certainly help her get through the day.

But she woke up in a bed that was as empty as the night before, and she always wanted to cry, and sometimes she allowed herself to do it.

And then she got up and went on like she wasn’t tearing at the seams.

No other break-up had taken such an emotional toll on her. Then again, she had never been as in love before.

 

* * *

 

 

“I have a surprise for you!” Mervin announced with his usual cheerfulness, when she walked into the workshop one morning, about a month before the opening.

“Is it a day off?” Meg only half-joked and Mervin let out a deafening guffaw.

“No, it’s better than that,” the writer said. “You’re going to love it. Our dear producer brought it earlier today.”

Since it was eight o’clock in the morning, “earlier today” probably meant at the crack of dawn. The producer hadn’t shown at any of the rehearsals, and Meg had the feeling that it was in order to avoid her. Not that she particularly minded, though.

“Come on, you have to see it,” Mervin said, grabbing her wrist and leading her inside the studio. “It’s beautiful.”

Standing in the middle of the room, there was an easel hidden by a blanket. Mervin strolled towards it, and with a dramatic movement, removed the cover. It was like someone had slapped Meg in the face: there it was the promotional poster for the play, but she had never seen a promotional poster that resembled so much a fucking work of art. Whoever designed it; had chosen different shades of red and purple that mingled together in perfect balance with the feminine figure standing in the middle of a stage, in front of a closed curtain drawn in such detail Meg could have counted the wrinkles on it.

But the figurine that dominated the poster was what caught the eye the most. She was standing with her hands in her hips, with shadowed wings that spread mockingly across the curtain, and the tag of the play (“Come up and see me sometime”) right next to her face, like it was coming out of her red, full lips. She smirked seductively at the audience; wearing a delightfully complicated dress that resembled the one Mae West wore in the trail scene. But the artist hadn’t made Tira blonde: instead, she had long, wavy brown hair and a rounded face with features Meg recognized as oddly similar to her own.

“What do you think?” Mervin asked. “All of the options were wonderful; the guy they hired to make them is really talented. But I knew it had to be this one the moment I saw it. She kinda looks like you, doesn’t she? That’s how I knew it was perfect.”

“Woah, oh… Merv… I-I don’t know what to say,” Meg mumbled, astonished.

“You don’t have to say anything, girl,” Mervin said, patting her back. “Enjoy it. It’s gonna be  _magnificent_ . I can feel it in my gut. Can’t you?”

Meg felt something in her gut, alright. She just wasn’t sure it was magnificence.

 

* * *

 

 

As the date of the opening night dragged closer and closer, Meg stopped feeling sad, maybe because she no longer had time to be sad. The rehearsals became more frantic (sometimes ending as late as midnight or one o’clock in the morning), Mervin became more hysterical, and the snickers of the rest of the cast became scarcer, because they simply were too tired to keep bullying Meg. In the blink of an eye, August became September, and Meg was confused when Mervin asked her to write her list.

“List?” she repeated.

“The list of people who are coming to see you,” Mervin said. “You know, friends, family. The theatre needs a list so they can save the tickets for them.”

Meg hesitated. She was already a nervous wreck without having to think that Dean, Jo, and Ash would be at the audience, but she supposed she couldn’t leave them out. Whatever happened after opening night, she would need her friends there, so she wrote down their names.

Benny didn’t know if he could make it, since he was probably going to be sent on another tour soon, but Meg added his name too, just in case. Grudgingly, she admitted maybe Sam and Jess would come too, and she supposed it was rude to have them paying, so she wrote their names as well. Wait, was Dean still dating Anna? He’d probably want to invite her. Seven tickets, then.

She tapped her coffee table with her pen, musingly. Then she added an eighth name. She crossed it out. Then she wrote it again.

Well, there was nothing wrong in inviting him, right? It was just a matter of basic courtesy. He had encouraged her to start auditioning again, so in a certain way, she owed him.

What were the chances that Castiel would actually show up to see the play anyway?

 

* * *

 

 

“I’m not sure about this, Anna.”

Anna sighed deeply on the other side of the phone, and Castiel could guess her thoughts pretty accurately: she was thinking he was a clueless moron and that she knew better what was best for him. Castiel didn’t want to tell her she had been wrong before.

“Come on, Cas,” Anna said. “Don’t you want to see her again?”

“I do,” said Castiel. “But maybe it’s just…”

“Don’t you dare say it’s too late,” Anna interrupted him. “Balthazar says Pamela tried to set you up with this Daphne person, and you wouldn’t hear of it.”

Castiel closed his eyes for a second, internally cursing all his siblings and their oversharing habits.

“It’s been three months, Anna,” he said. He didn’t know if he meant it was too soon to see someone else, or too late to try and make up with Meg.

“Yes, precisely,” Anna said. “Three months in which you’ve been aching to find an excuse to talk to her again. Here’s your excuse. Why are you not taking it?”

Because he was terrified.

“Because I don’t want to show up and ruin her big night,” Castiel said. “That would be terribly awkward.”

“Cas, she put your name on the list,” Anna’s voice adopted the tone of a very patient teacher talking to hypersensitive kid. “She asked Dean if you were coming. She  _obviously_ wants you there.”

Castiel rubbed his eyes, trying to find an answer to that. Yes, he wanted to see her. He wanted to know how she was doing. He wanted to talk to her, to see if anything had changed. And he also dreaded it.

“I’ll think about it, Anna,” he promised. He probably would do nothing  _but_ think about it.

“What’s there to think about?” Balthazar asked. “You’re still so utterly in love with Meg it makes everybody nauseous. You’d be doing us all a favor if you just reconciled with her.”

“That is not the point, Balthazar,” Castiel said. He had called him to beg him not to give Anna any more weapons to use against his already wearing will.

“Yes, yes, I should have not told Anna about the double date you so kindly refused to go to,” Balthazar said, but he was clearly not sorry at all.

“Could you hang up already?” Gabriel’s voice came from the distance. “I have to make a call!”

“You are  _not_ having sex on the phone with Khali again,” Balthazar said. “The bill is going to be fucking excessive.”

“I was not having sex on the phone with her!” Gabriel replied, loud enough for Castiel to catch every one of his words. “I was  _making love_ to her on the phone.”

Castiel suddenly remembered there was something urgent he needed to do, and ended the call. Not five minutes have passed when the phone rang again.

“Why didn’t you tell us we’re having a theater night this Friday?” Alfie said when Castiel picked up. “You know I love the theater!”

“I-It’s not…” Castiel tried to say, but he was way too exhausted to put up a coherent argument. “Alfie, it’s Meg’s play.”

“Yes, I know,” Alfie said, simply.

“I don’t know if I should go,” Castiel said.

“Maybe you shouldn’t,” Alfie said.

“You really think I shouldn’t?”

“I think you should do whatever you think you should,” Alfie stated.

“Maybe you’re right,” Castiel sighed.

“Great, so we’re all going!” Alfie said. “Garth is going to be so excited. See you, brother.”

Alfie hanged up, and Castiel stared at the phone, and called his younger brother.

“You were all conspiring to make me go, weren’t you?” he asked.

“Oh, Cas,” Alfie said, with a note of pity in his voice. “Do you even have to ask?”

 

* * *

 

 

The theater was a pandemonium. There were stagehands, hairdressers, makeup artists, and costumiers running around, bumping against each other and swearing under their breaths. There were actors rehearsing their lines, all of them at the same time, which added extra noise to the frantic activity, but above it all, there was Mervin, screaming his lungs out, apparently fighting with Crowley, trying to convince him to come and do a last minute replacement for an actor who had stumbled down the stairs, and unbelievably, actually broke his leg.

“We both know you’re on your favorite robe sipping your goddamn scotch, Ferguson, now get our ass down here!”

Meg (who could hear him inside her dressing room, where she was having her costume adjust for the first scene and fighting a sudden attack of stage fright) could almost imagine Crowley’s snarky retort. She hoped to God the asshole would just agree to do it, because they had less than three hours before the curtain call, and she knew that if everything was not perfect, Ruby would never let her hear the end of it, like she somehow was to blame for other people’s bad luck.

“Fine, I’ll see they pay you double!” Mervin shouted. “Just get here, will you?!”

The chatter of the rest of the theater became louder now that Mervin wasn’t roaring, and Meg started going over her lines, but that didn’t soothe her. She hadn’t eaten all day and she was starving. As soon as she could get rid of her dresser, she popped out her head and asked one of the stagehands to bring her a sandwich.

“What am I, a goddamn secretary?” the man growled.

Meg went back inside the dressing room, pretty sure she’d have to go for a sandwich herself and have Mervin freak out when he couldn’t find her to boss her around some more. That’s why she was so surprised when, about half an hour later, the man knocked on the door, with not only a sandwich, but also an enormous bouquet of red roses.

“You’re Meg Masters, right?” the man asked, leaving the flowers and the sandwich over the table. “A messenger brought these for you.”

Meg thanked him and devoured half the sandwich before taking a look at the card. It read simply “Break a leg”, and there was no signature. But she recognized the handwriting nonetheless.

“Roses, huh?” she muttered to herself, half resigned, half annoyed. “I never took you for the type.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Stop scratching, Ash, you’re making me nervous.”

“This thing’s itchy!”

“Why the hell did we have to wear fancy things anyway?”

Anna ignored Jo, Ash and Dean’s bickering, turning her head every time an usher passed them by, guiding spectators to their seats. They’d met Sam and Jess on the entrance, and later she spotted Alfie and Garth a few rows back. But the seat next to her remained empty.

“Castiel’s late,” she said.

“Maybe he chickened out,” Ash suggested, scratching his arms frenetically.

“That’d be disastrous,” Jo said, and Anna couldn’t help but to agree.

A strong hand covered hers, and Anna looked up to meet Dean’s green eyes.

“He’ll be here,” he assured her. “And I’m telling you, we’ll only have to leave them alone in a room for like, two seconds, to get them back together.”

“I hope you’re right,” Anna said, but she was a lot calmer. She smiled at her boyfriend. “You look really handsome, by the way.”

“You think?” Dean said, looking at his suit (he had refused to put on a tie, so the first button of his shirt was open, revealing the beginning of his chest). He winked at her. “Well, I guess fancy clothes ain’t so bad after all.”

“Speak for yourself,” Ash muttered, and Jo had to forcibly grab his shoulders to get him to stay still.

Just when the theater was almost full, the doors were about to close, and Anna had lost all hope that her brother would show up, one last usher passed them by, accompanied by a man in a brown trench coat Anna recognized right away.

“You made it,” she said in a whisper, because a very kind voice coming from the speakers was reminding them to turn off their cell phones.

Castiel offered her a half smile, and set his eyes on the stage. Anna had enough time to notice he was carrying a single white rose before the lights went out and the play began.


	33. Chapter 33

All good love stories have a sad ending, don’t they?

Castiel held that in mind while he watched the play unfold before his eyes. Mervin had made some minor changes regarding the details (for example, instead of a dancer and a lion tamer, Tira was now an actress for low budgets movies in a 1930’s Hollywood fictitious studio, and Jack and Kirk have been melted in only one character) but kept the spirit of the story intact. Cheeky, fearless Tira strut around the stage in her splendid gowns, letting out quips and one-liners that made the audience cracked every time, all charisma, and beauty, and charm.

The other characters did their job quite well, from the Dallas Man, played by Meg’s boss, Ferguson Crowley (“That’s not a name, that’s two surnames stitched together,” Dean said later on), to Ruby, who was the uptight former fiancée of the Cary Grant look-a-like who was cast as Jack. But there was no doubt of who was the star eclipsing them all.

“Who is this Masters girl?” Castiel overheard a group of people talking during the interval. “I’ve never seen her before.”

“Oh, God, she is doing brilliantly,” one of the men said. “Where did Mervin find her?”

“I reckon she might be better than Ruby,” said a woman. “Let’s see if she can keep it up for the second act.”

Castiel felt the impulse to tell them that of course she could keep it up, that Meg never did anything halfway. He was burning with a strange combination of pride and jealousy. He’d had unwavering faith in Meg from the beginning, he had persuaded her to resume her acting career; he was the reason of all those strangers could see what he had seen long ago: the fierce passion and resolve Meg poured into every aspect of her life, the very thing that made her especial and precious in his eyes.

He was sure that, by the end of the night, he wouldn’t be the only one in love with her.

The second act was mostly occupied by Tira and Jack’s falling out, the trial for breach of promise (the audience cried tears of laughter during the interrogation of the Dallas Man – and Castiel had the feeling Meg was enjoying that moment for the sole fact it gave her a chance to get back at her boss, if only in fiction), and the final reconciliation… that never came to pass.

Everything was happening just as in the film: Jack had decided he did no longer want to fight Tira’s demands, Tira had gone back triumphant to her apartment, and then Jack came to see her. She ripped the check. Castiel’s heart seemed to have swollen in his chest, and he could feel the tension in the air, like everybody in the theater was holding their breaths.

“Come on, kiss her,” he heard Ash muttering.

But instead, Jack started numbering all the reasons he and Tira couldn’t be together anymore, and then headed for the side of the stage.

“Jack,” Tira called him, with a bittersweet smile that was but a ghost of the grin she had worn during the rest of the play. “You’ll still come up and see me sometime?”

Jack left without answering. The lights went out.

There was a moment of appalled silence, and then, five seconds too late, someone began clapping, and the rest of the spectators followed that lead, hesitantly at first, but gaining intensity as the actors came back to the stage for the final bow. When Meg appeared, the audience roared and cheered; and Jo, Dean and Ash stood up, whistling and screaming euphorically. Part of Castiel wanted to do the same thing, but he remained hunched on his seat, scared that Meg might spot him. Yet, he couldn’t stop applauding and smiling, like a fool.

She’d made it. She had conquered them all.

Mervin climbed up the stage too, with a bouquet of flowers that he ostentatiously gave Meg, and then spoke to the audience, thanking them for their presence, and asked them to give an extra round of applause for Meg’s debut, which they conceded gladly. Then the curtain fell, and the crowd started moving, talking and commenting the play. Castiel saw their smiles and their delight, but still, there was a sense of unrest hanging in the air.

“I really thought they were going to get back together,” Jo said, and the rest of the group agreed.

Castiel’s stomach was slowly becoming a nervous knot now that he realized what was going to happen next.

They reached the lobby, where Alfie, Garth, Sam and Jess joined them.

“Meg was awesome,” seemed to be the first general consensus. “I was not expecting that ending,” was the second.

Dean gave the keys to the bar to Sam and Jo, and they left with Ash and Jess to open the Monster’s Den: they were going to gather and stay up all night to read the reviews for the play as soon as they came out. Alfie and Garth excused themselves, saying they couldn’t leave Portia alone for that long, and suddenly Castiel was starting to see all the upsides of having a pet.

“Perhaps I should just…”

“No, you’re not going anywhere,” Anna declared, correctly guessing what Castiel was about to say.

They waited, along with other groups of friends and family scattered around, obviously expecting other members of the cast. Dean wasted no time in letting all of them know about their plan, and a few minutes later, several people had left with the promise of meeting them at the bar.

“I hope the guys can handle it,” Dean said. He obviously had no intention of moving until they saw Meg. Castiel suspected it was in order to stop him if he tried to run.

At long last, Dean said “There she is!” and strolled across the lobby to put her arms around Meg and pulled her for a tight hug while the several people still waiting burst in a spontaneous ovation.

“Thank you, thank you very much,” Meg said, with a face-splitting smile.

Before Castiel could escape, Anna clutched his arm firmly and dragged him forwards towards Meg.

“Congratulations, you were great,” his sister said, hugging her too.

“Thank you,” Meg repeated; her face blushed and joyful.

And then she saw Castiel. Her smile faltered a bit, and her eyes shot wide open, in astonishment.

“You came,” she said, with an unmistakable tone of surprise.

Castiel was lost for words. She was wearing tight jeans and what he knew was her favorite white blouse. Her makeup was simple, and her hair was tied in a lazy ponytail. Not nearly as striking as she had been wearing Tira’s dresses, but he still had troubles putting his thoughts in order. In the three months since he had seen her, he had forgotten how beautiful she was, and how she made his heart race like it was going to jump out of his chest.

“You… y-you were… uh, you were… w-wonderful,” he stuttered inelegantly.

“Thanks,” she said, immobile and visibly shocked from seeing him there.

Castiel felt something digging in his palm, and he remembered the rose, which looked quite tiny and withered when compared with the couple of fabulous bouquets Meg was juggling with. He handed it to her hastily, his face burning from the embarrassment of not getting her something more impressive. She received it with such a graceful movement it shamed Castiel to no end for his clumsiness.

“Okay, we gotta get out of here and celebrate properly,” Dean was saying, unaware (or pretending to be) of the awkwardness around. “We’re gonna stay up, and… what is  _she_ doing here?”

The question was made with such disgust and irritation in his voice it startled both Anna and Castiel. A blonde woman had approached them, and was giving Dean a look of the most terrible derision.

“I see you’re still an uneducated ape, Winchester,” she said.

Castiel recognized her accent right away: it was Bela’s. He hadn’t recognized his boss because she had changed her hair color, and she was dressed up in a revealing red dress and matching stilettos that made her even taller than she already was.

“Hey, Bela, I never asked you,” Dean said. “Did it hurt?”

“Did what hurt?” Bela asked, rolling her eyes.

“When you clawed your way up from the fiery pits of hell, you bitch.”

“Charming, Winchester, really…”

Meg looked slightly mortified.

“Play nice, you two,” she said.

“You asked too much of me, dear,” Bela said, and then, to Castiel’s dismay, she noticed him. “Abbot?”

“H-Hello, Miss Talbot,” Castiel said, trying to sound courteous amongst the feeling of cold realization creeping in his brain.

“I didn’t know you  _associated_ with the likes of Winchester,” she said, and somehow she made it sound like it was something dirty and reprehensible.

Before Castiel could come up with an answer (which, granted, would have probably taken a while), Meg took a stepped towards him.

“Castiel is my friend, Bela,” she said.

“Oh,” Bela said, unimpressed. “Alright, then. Can I offer you a ride, dear?”

“We’re actually having a bit of a get-together at Dean’s bar,” Meg said.

“Yeah, and  _you_ are not invited,” Dean lashed out.

“Like I wanted to go, your bar is probably as lewd and foul as you are,” Bela said, and turned to Meg with a smile. “Well, then, if you change your mind… you have my number.”

She briefly caressed Meg’s cheek with her thumb, and walked away; her head held high, her stilettos marking her rhythmical stride. There was a moment of astound silence, and then Dean snapped:

“Bela, Meg? Really?” he said, equally incredulous and exasperated. “After what she did to you,  _really?_ ”

“It’s not that black and white, Dean,” Meg said.

“What is the Queen Bitch doing on New York anyway?” Dean asked. “What is she doing at your play?”

Meg gave him an exhausted look.

“Can we talk about it later?” she asked.

Dean was clearly ready to talk about it right then and there, but Anna squeezed his arm hard.

“Sure, yeah, whatever,” Dean muttered, understanding the warning. “We gotta get to the Den…”

“I, uh… I-I actually will be going home now,” Castiel said. He had to force the words out of his mouth, because there was an annoying little lump on his throat that was making it hard to breathe, let alone speak.

“No, come on, Cas…” Anna tried to protest.

“I have to go,” Castiel said, a bit firmer. He couldn’t stay. He felt like he was going to be sick. “Sorry.”

His feet, which had been hopelessly glued to the floor until that moment, were heavy when he moved them again. The air was thick around him, preventing him from going as fast as he wanted to, and he was disoriented and dizzy.

“Clarence,” a voice called him from behind. He obeyed that voice automatically, turning his head towards her. Meg’s smile was sad. “It was good to see you.”

She said it with a soft, defeated tone.

 “Yeah…” Castiel said.

He meant to say “It was good to see you, too” or “Goodnight” or maybe, even, “Goodbye”. But the lump on his throat had grown bigger, and he just couldn’t take the sight of her anymore. It was too painful. He turned around and broke into a little trot that became almost a run when he got closer to his car. Once inside, he had to wait until his eyes cleared enough for him to see the street ahead.

He felt like a fool. He felt like a coward. But, most of all, he felt utterly and irreversibly brokenhearted.

 

* * *

 

 

“Okay, this is it, everybody,” Henry, the guy who played Jack, announced while depositing a bundle of newspapers he and some other people had gone out to buy. “Gather around; let’s listen to what these critics have to say.”

“Critics know shit,” Ruby said, but nobody seemed to hear her. She hadn’t been paid attention to all night, and Meg could tell it was driving her mad.

“Who wants to start?” Henry asked, his eyes surfing the crowd of actors, friends and family reunited at the Den. “How about our dear leading lady? Tira herself! Where are you, Meg?”

Meg (who was wondering when she became “the dear leading lady” after she had been “that slut who slept with the producer” for so long) shook her head with an apologetic smile. She’d had more than a few drinks, and wasn’t properly drunk, though she wished she had.

“Come on!” Henry said, and at the insistence of the crowd, she took a step forward and grabbed the paper.

“Okay, let’s see,” Meg said, and her heart gave a discouraged jump in her chest when she saw the punctuation. “This guy gave us three stars out of five.”

“That’s not too bad,” Jo said, but all the cast had suddenly gone quiet. Non-theater people couldn’t understand what it was like to receive a mediocre review. It was worse than just a bad one.

“’ _Five time Tony Award winning writer, Mervin Tron, falls short in his new Broadway production,_ I’m no angel _,’”_ Meg began reading, with an increasing fear clutching in her stomach. “ _’Though the play plays a quite decent homage to the classic Mae West film, I sometimes couldn’t tell if I was watching a comedy or a tragedy. The script was messy and sometimes hard to follow. Many of the characters felt weak and unambitious, like they were going through the motions rather than investing themselves in the story. Ruby Cortese, in particular, seemed not to be at her finest hour…’”_

There was a general half suppressed gasp, and several people turned to look at Ruby, who continued to drink her martini like she hadn’t heard a thing. Meg couldn’t keep reading. Her mouth was dry. She handed the paper to Jo.

“ _’However, it is only fair to point that the play did count with sparks of brilliance. This is one of those cases in which the writing clashes with the performance, as the actress who plays Tira, newcomer Megan Masters, has proven to be a diamond in the rough, and a most delightful surprise,’”_ Jo continued reading.

“I bet that’s not what he means,” Meg said, bracing herself for the skinning alive of her performance.

“ _’Her charisma and professionalism raised the bar for the rest of the cast, and even veteran Ferguson Crowley – playing a minor role as a personal favor to Tron – had to struggle to keep up with her.’”_ Jo went on. _“’The scene in which she cross examines him is by far one of the funniest I have seen in a long time. Her attitude and timing were perfect, but not even her best effort could save Tron’s chaotic script and frankly disappointing ending. If she continues to cradle the raw talent she has shown at her debut night (and maybe, picks more compelling plays in the future), I predict a long and fruitful career for Miss Masters.”_

“Does it really say that?” Meg asked, snatching the paper from her friend. The words were all there, alright, printed and seated in black. Dean let out an admiring whistle.

“I’ll be damn,” he said, and Meg didn’t have to look at him to know he was smiling. “I hope you still drop by every now and then when you’re famous, Meg.”

“I’m not going to be famous,” Meg said, blushing violently.

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Ash said, scanning another paper. “This guy here sounds like he wants to marry you.”

The rest of the reviews went along the same lines: Mervin’s script was unclear. The dialogue was lazy. The new spin he had put on the play didn’t make any sense or was downright wrong. One critic even said he completely desecrated Mae’s spirit. In general, they blamed all the troubles of the play on him.

At the same time, there was nothing but praise for Meg. She was fresh, and dazzling, and talented, and practically on her way to becoming a Broadway icon. Meg thought she might have worn out the word “Really?” from all the times she said it, while checking the reviews to make sure they weren’t kidding her.

“Well, fuck me,” Henry said. “This calls for a toast.”

Dean didn’t need to be told twice: he magically produced more beer (even though Meg was pretty sure they had already drunk all the alcohol he had stored in the Den) and started distributing them among all of them.

“For Meg!” he said, raising his bottle.

And then, they (the people who had snickered at her, who had whispered the most hurtful things about her, who had ignored her and despised her all the time she was working with them), raised their bottles as well and said: “For Meg!”

Meg was lost for words.

“Thank you,” she said, feeling like her face was on fire from all the blushing. “I really don’t… thank you…”

The night ended in a general clapping and more toasting. At some point, Meg realized Ruby had left in the most discreet manner, and wished she could do the same. She still endured another hour of congratulations and hand shaking. She was physically and emotionally exhausted, and she wanted to go home so she could sleep and maybe freak out about all the nice things the critics were saying later on.

Finally, the last of the cast members left, and Dean offered to give the gang a ride.

“You get shotgun, Meg,” he told her. “You deserve it.”

Meg yawned, too tired to say “thanks” even one last time. They got the empty bottles and most the garbage out of the way (“I’ll sort it out tomorrow, don’t worry about it”) and Ash gave them their jackets.

“What are you going to do with these?” Anna asked, pointing at the bouquets, long ago abandoned over the counter. Meg had completely forgotten about them.

“Just… I think I’ll just throw them away,” she said. “No, wait…”

With a jolt of panic, she looked among the flowers, and was relieved to find the single white rose Castiel had given her.

“This one I’ll keep,” she decided. Anna gave her a look that seemed to say a billion things at the same time. “What? I know I wasted my chance with Cas, especially after he saw me with Bela,” Meg said, delicately cuddling the rose against her chest. “But… it was still nice to see him tonight.”

Okay, now she was getting sentimental. Why was she telling these things to Anna, anyway? It was probably just her tiredness talking.

“Stop looking at me like that,” she said, because Anna was now smiling like she knew something Meg didn’t, and it unnerved her.

"Alright,” Anna said, shrugging. “I got one question, though: who the hell is Clarence?”

Meg had never in her life been happier to hear Dean’s voice when he announced they were ready to go. 


	34. Chapter 34

“Cas, you have to call her,” Anna insisted.

Castiel let out a sight, and wished for nothing but silence and peace. He hadn’t been able to sleep more than two hours in a row that weekend, and was at the edge of screaming at his sister.

“I don’t know, Anna,” he replied, as politely as he could.

He didn’t need to be hearing that. He needed to be in bed, right now, maybe with a good book, to try and catch some sleep so he wouldn’t pass out on his desk tomorrow at work. He needed to gather the strength to somehow carry on with his life. Most of all, he needed to stop thinking about Meg. But that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon if his sister kept insisting on talking about her.

“Why do you care, anyway?” he asked, interrupting Anna’s listing of the reasons he had to call Meg. “You don’t even like her.”

There was silence at the other end of the phone.

“She’s kinda grown on me. I blame Dean,” she said. “But it really is for you, Cas. I didn’t like Meg at first because I thought she’d made you unhappy. And then I realized you’re even unhappier without her.”

Castiel closed his eyes for a moment, not sure what to say. Suddenly, all of Anna’s actions (telling Raphael about Meg, being nothing but antagonistic towards her from the get go) made sense. She had been trying to take care of him.

“I’m the older brother,” he said, with a smile he couldn’t hold back. “I’m supposed to watch over  _you_ .”

“Yeah, and who watches over you? Gabriel? I don’t think so,” Anna said. He could hear the smile on her voice. “I just… I want you to be okay, Cas.”

“I will be,” Castiel assured. “Don’t worry about it. I will be.”

 

* * *

 

 

No, he wouldn’t. Not unless he had another cup of coffee right then.

“Another one, boss?” Becky asked.

“Yes, another one, Becky,” he said, trying not to lose his temper. He had quitted trying to make her stop calling him “boss”, but for God’s sake, if she was going to be all “boss” on him, she might as well do what she was told.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” she was saying. “You looked a bit… unhinged.”

“Becky, goddamit…!” Castiel screamed, and in throwing his arms in the air, he knocked down his pencils to the floor. He forced himself to take a deep breath. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have screamed. I just…. I had a bad weekend. Could you please…?”

“Cup of coffee on the way,” Becky said, and Castiel thought he detected a note of pity on her voice.

Castiel leaned down to start picking his pencils. He was trying so bad not to punch something he barely realized Pamela had approached to help him.

“Are you alright?” she asked.

“Yes, I’m fine,” he lied. Pamela realized that, because when they finished gathering his pencils, she said she had something to cheer him up and ran to her desk. She returned with a newspaper opened in the Entertainment section.

“Look,” she said with a smile. There, in black and white, was the artwork he had designed for  _I’m no angel_ , next to a review of the play. “I’ve been seeing it everywhere. Apparently, the theater is spending a lot in publicity. And you know what that means?”

“What?” asked Castiel, who really was craving for what it must have been his fifth cup of coffee that morning.

“It means a big fat check for you, and a way to impress Talbot!” Pamela said, softly hitting him with the newspaper. “You are going to get all the best commissions now, Cas.”

“Yeah… yeah, that’s great,” Castiel said, trying to show some enthusiasm, and failing at it. He had seen Meg’s name among the sea of small of letters dancing in front of his eyes. “Can I borrow this?”

He knew it went against his purpose of getting Meg out of his head, but he still read the review attentively while he waited for Becky to bring him his coffee. The critic bashed Mervin’s script, saying if Mae West was alive, she would surely give him a piece of her mind in the worst kind of way. At the same time, he admired Meg’s work and what she had managed to do with such a disastrous adaptation. Of course they would say that. She had been extraordinary. She  _was_ extraordinary.

“Boss…” Becky was back, but instead of a cup of coffee, she had an expression of utter fear.

“What is it, Becky?” Castiel asked, worried. “What, what happened?”

“She… she says you are to have lunch with her…”

“Who says?”

“T-The Big Lady. She says you have to cancel whatever plan you had,” Becky stuttered, apparently frightened from having such a direct conversation with her boss’ boss. Well, technically, her boss’ boss’ boss. “You are not getting fired, are you? I mean… you’re the best boss, I don’t want you to get fired!”

“Why does everyone assume Bela’s here to fire people?” he asked, but he couldn’t help remembering Zachariah, red-faced and screaming. “I’m sure it’s nothing, Becky. Thank you.”

He wondered where he had found the nerve to say that in the calmest manner. He was shivering in terror inside.

 

* * *

 

 

“You ready, Abbot?” Bela asked around noon, passing by Castiel’s desk without even looking at him. Everybody in the artistic department had stopped working the moment she stepped in, and now were glancing at Castiel, with impertinent curiosity.

“Yes… Miss Talbot… about that…” Castiel said, trying to find an excuse (any excuse, now, God, he couldn’t have lunch with her!).

“Now, Abbot,” Bela said, a threatening note in her voice.

Castiel swallowed and followed her, trying to ignore the look of concerned sympathy in Pamela’s face.

“Are you vegetarian, Abbot?” Bela asked, while the elevator took them to the lobby.

“N-No.”

“Anything in particular you’d like to eat?”

“W-Whatever you choose is fine, Miss Talbot,” Castiel said, almost choking for producing such a long sentence when his inside seemed to have been replaced by a bunch of twirling snakes.

“Very well,” she said. “We’re going for Italian, Arby,” she told her chauffeur, before sliding gracefully inside her car. Castiel almost bumped his head against the roof.

They sat at opposite edges of the seat; Castiel shuffling nervously, Bela checking e-mails in her smart phone, completely disregarding him.

“Relax, Abbot,” she said, without even looking at him. “I don’t bite.”

Castiel tried to smile, but it was like his face was frozen. Ten minutes later, they walked into a fancy restaurant on Fifth Avenue. The owner received Bela in person, making small talk while he guided them to Bela’s favorite table. Castiel took a look at the menu, and his mouth went dry. The food there was more expensive than his rent. He was pretty sure the cutlery was more expensive than his rent. Bela ended up ordering for the two in view Castiel was unable to decide (or rather, unable to find the cheapest dish).

“So, Abbot…” she began.

“Please, don’t fire me,” Castiel said, and it took him a couple of seconds to realized he had said it out loud. Bela looked amused.

“You think I would sack you over lunch at my favorite restaurant?” she asked. “No, Abbot. This is a promotion.”

“Is it?” Castiel asked, looking for signs in Bela’s face that she was kidding him.

“As in next week, you are starting as director of the artistic department,” she announced. “More work, maybe, but a bigger paycheck. I saw you asked for a raise earlier this year.”

“But that’s Naomi’s job,” Castiel pointed. “You’re not… firing Naomi, are you?”

Bela couldn’t contain the laughter any longer. “Dear Abbot, she was the one who suggested you should replace her.”

Castiel just stared at her in stunned silence. Part of him was relieved, but mostly he was overrun by confusion.

“Naomi’s getting Zachariah’s old job,” Bela was explaining now. “She would have taken over as soon as I sacked him, but first I had to solve the mess he made. Turns out he was embezzling. Ugly little business, I would rather you refrained from mentioning it to your coworkers.”

“But… me?” he asked. He had completely lost his capacity to articulate any sort of coherent speech.

“You’ve been with Halos longest, you are the one who usually takes more commissions, you are preferred by many clients, your coworkers like you,” Bela numbered. She stopped long enough for the waiter to put the dishes in front of them and pour some wine in their glasses. “Honestly, I am surprised you haven’t been promoted years ago.”

Castiel emptied his glass, because he wasn’t sure he could process all of that without alcohol.

“Actually, I’m surprised you didn’t charge into my office demanding a promotion on the basis we have a mutual friend. It’s happened before,” Bela added, taking a sip of her wine. “Unless you didn’t know I was an acquaintance of Meg.”

Castiel looked at his dish, not sure he wanted to go into that topic. But Bela was waiting for an answer, so he admitted:

“I did know. I just… figure it would be inappropriate to bring it up at work.” Of course, that was only partially true.

Bela took a bite of her ravioli, and chewed it slowly and pensively.

“You are not eating, Abbot,” she pointed. Castiel took his fork, but only stir what was on his plate a bit. “May I ask what is the exact nature of your relationship with Meg?”

“My sister is dating Dean,” he said, almost defiantly. He knew Bela didn’t see eye to eye with the bartender, but frankly, he didn’t care. He liked Dean, he was a good man. “He is my friend. Meg is my friend, too.”

It almost hurt to say such a blatant lie, and Bela noticed, of course.

“Is that all there is?”

“Miss Talbot, I am thankful for this opportunity you are giving me,” he said, as politely as he could. “But I would appreciate it if you didn’t pry about my personal life.”

“You are in love with her. I knew it,” Bela said, with an indecipherable smile. “I mean, come on, Abbot, the girl in the poster? She is so obviously Meg I don’t think anybody else can embody that part in the future. If that play has future. The critics are eating it alive,” she sighed. “It was not such a good investment as I was lead to believe.”

Castiel was perplexed. “Excuse me?”

“Meg didn’t tell you?” Bela said, and she was obviously at least mildly pleased. “I am the producer of  _I’m no angel_ .”

“Oh,” was all that Castiel could say. He helped himself to more wine.

“She called me when the former producer stepped down,” Bela said. “Another ugly business. Apparently, the man wasn’t used to hear the word ‘no’.”

Castiel was trying so hard not to care or pay heed to what Bela was saying, but that comment baffled him. He looked at Bela, waiting for her to continue, but she just kept eating and sipping wine, apparently reveling in Castiel’s interest.

“Of course, I didn’t expect her to come running back to me, but I couldn’t refuse her this favor. I still have a soft spot for her,” Bela said, after a while. “We always do for our first, don’t we?” she added, winking at Castiel.

“Our first?” he repeated.

“Our first Dom,” Bela said, raising her glass towards Castiel with an eloquent smile.

 

* * *

 

 

Meg had been on the phone for the past half hour, and she was starting to have a headache.

“I’m not going to tone it down, Mervin,” she said. “Not even a notch. My ‘intense acting’, as you call it, it’s not what they’re complaining about.”

“You don’t understand, Meg,” Mervin said. He sounded defeated, and Meg was pretty sure he was drunk. “The reason they’re not getting it’s because you made your character too likeable. If they could hate her…”

“My Tira is just fine. Have you considered the reason they’re criticizing it it’s because of that lame conclusion you wrote?” Meg said, irritated.

“I should have given the part to Ruby,” Mervin slurred. “She would have done what she’s told.”

“Well, it’s not too late,” Meg replied. She was furious, and on top of it, someone was knocking insistently on her door. “Fire me and put her in my place, I don’t even care. I did my job, and I did it better than you, and I’m not going to apologize if your petty, little scribbler’s ego can’t take it.”

“How  _dare_ you?” Mervin said, clearly offended.

“I’m coming, dammit!” Meg screamed at the door. “Listen, Mervin, not everybody liked your play. Get over it. Do something to improve it. But do  _not_ tell me it’s  _my_ fault  _you_ can’t write a decent ending for Tira… I SAID I’M FUCKING COMING!”

“Why are you yelling at me?” Mervin asked. Oh, great, now he was sobbing. Meg rolled her eyes so hard they could have gotten stuck in the back of her head while she walked to the door.

“Listen, Mervin, you can’t ask me to half-ass it, that’s not how I work,” she said, reaching for the latch. “And besides…” She opened the door. Everything that she was going to say flew out of the window. “Merv, I’ll talk to you later,” she said, and ignoring Mervin’s protests, she ended the call and turned to look at the person standing in her doorway. She would have said “Hi” or “Good to see you”, but what came out of her mouth was: “What are you doing here?”

“Is this a bad time?” Castiel asked.

As if to answer, Meg’s phone started ringing again. She ignored the call, and then, for good measure, turned it off. Between Mervin’s existential crisis and what was obviously going to be a really awkward conversation with her ex boyfriend, she’d take Castiel any day.

“Come in,” she invited him. “Sorry about the mess. I haven’t been home a lot…”

Castiel stepped in. It was almost unnatural to have him there, in the middle of her living room, all dressed up in his suit and tie. He had obviously just come out of work, without even stop at home to change. What could be so urgent?

“You kept that,” Castiel pointed.

Meg followed the direction of his eyes. He was talking about the rose. She had put it on a vase and placed it next to the window in order to prolong its fragile life a little more. It was already starting to whiter, but she couldn’t bring herself to throw it away. She considered that was too long of an explanation, so she simply asked again:

“Why are you here, Cas?”

Cas took a deep breath and turned to look at her. “I had an… interesting lunch today. With Bela.”

“Oh,” Meg said, and waited for him to continue.

“She told me… a few things. About the play. About you,” he said. Meg made her best effort to keep her face straight. In her mind, she was already murdering Bela and burying her body.

“Yes, she’s producing it because I asked her too,” she said, calmly. “So?”

“No, that’s not it,” Castiel shook his head. “Why didn’t you tell me about… about what the other producer asked you to do?”

If he had slapped Meg in the face, the effect wouldn’t have been so big. She had hated it when Azazael had approached her and made it very clear she wasn’t going to get the part unless she put up. She had hated the other few threats he had made. She was trying to put all of that behind her.

“What was the point?” she asked, not trying to conceal her anger against Castiel for stirring up that awful business.

“The point is… Meg, I-I was your boyfriend,” he said, stuttering and messing the words like he always when he was nervous. “You should have told me. I could have helped you.”

“Really? And what could you have possibly done? Defy him to a duel to defend my honor?” Meg didn’t want to sound cynical, but that’s how it came out.

“It was sexual harassment!” Castiel said, like she didn’t know that. “It wasn’t right!”

“Cas, it happens all the time,” Meg said. “I’m not saying it’s not wrong, I’m saying it’s a given. Why do you think I stopped auditioning altogether in the first place?”

Castiel seemed to sink a few inches in the ground. “I didn’t know.”

“Well, now you do,” Meg said. Dammit, did her voice just tremble? She cleared her throat, refusing to admit the tears were building up behind her eyes. “Is that it?”

“Is that why you broke up with me?”

Meg closed her eyes for a moment. She wasn’t going to cry.

“What difference does it make?”

He took a step towards her, like he wanted to touch her, but he held back.

“It makes all the difference in the world,” he whispered.

“What do you want me to say?” Meg snapped. “That I felt dirty, and ashamed, and so damn helpless that I ended up calling my ex girlfriend? That I realized what kind of shit I was getting you in, and that you didn’t deserve that? That I picked a fight on purpose to have an excuse to walk away? That I love you and I’m not over you, and nowhere in the near vicinity of being over you, and I don’t think I’ll ever be…?”

She couldn’t go on. Her voice broke completely, and she could feel her whole body shaking. Castiel closed the distance between them, and hugged her. She tried to resist at first, but in the end, she surrendered. She surrendered to her grief and her yearning, to his arms holding her tight against his chest, to the softness of his shirt against her cheek and the familiar smell of his aftershave. To the little kisses he was planting on her hair and the whispers assuring her that it was alright, that everything would be alright now, and that he loved her, and that he wasn’t letting go.

Maybe for the first time in her life, Meg surrendered control completely. And she cried, cried, and cried, not caring if Castiel thought she was weak or clingy or pathetic. She knew he wasn’t going to judge her. He never would. 


	35. Chapter 35

Castiel thought there ought to be a good reason not to be doing this.

He couldn’t be sure who had started it, who had stepped in and closed the gap between their mouths, who had pulled the other into a kiss that tasted of tears, and longing, and messed up chances. It didn’t really matter at the moment, and it mattered very little now, when they were both in Meg’s room, fighting against buttons, and buckles, and clasps.

There was a second of clarity, between the one in which he finally got rid of Meg’s shirt, and the one his clumsy fingers reached her, when he thought maybe they should stop. Maybe they were too emotional, too angry, too eager, to be doing this. Maybe they would later regret it if they didn’t took a moment to reconsider. He knew he didn’t want to regret it.

But then Meg nibbled his ear, and, as usual, all his good purposes went to hell. It simply had been so long, and he had yearned for her so much…

They fell on the bed, locked in a tight embrace, while they wrestled with the last layers of annoying clothing. They were both gasping and frenetic, like they couldn’t believe the other was actually there, that they were back in each other’s arm, their scents melting together, their sweat mixing over their spots where their skins met. They had to make the most of it, now, because they didn’t know how long they had until they realized this was going to hurt them both.

Meg had an instant of lucidity too, but as usual, hers was more practical than romantic.

“The…” she murmured, her hand stretching for the nightstand drawer.

Castiel understood. He opened the drawer, and searched for the condoms. It probably would have killed the momentum and made them stop if Meg hadn’t decided that was a good opportunity to leave a hickey on Castiel’s shoulder, while muttering something he was pretty sure he would never forget, no matter how many years he lived.

“I love you.”

When he turned to look at her, she had an expression of slight surprise, like she hadn’t meant to say it out loud, or expected him to hear it. But now she’d said; she certainly had no intention of taking it back.

“I love you, Cas,” she repeated, a little louder.

Castiel’s brain shut down completely, a sensation of utter euphoria invading him when he kissed her again and again. Yes, this was still not a good idea. Yes, they were still heading straight for a heartbreak. He simply didn’t care anymore.

Meg’s ferocity seemed to double, scratching and biting and squeezing him so hard he was sure he’d have bruises all over the following day. It was like she was trying to prove just because she loved him, she wasn’t going to go easy on him. He responded with gentle strokes, and light pecks on her neck and her breasts, and soft groans and whimpers every time she hit an especially sensitive spot. They were taking their time now they had been convinced the other wasn’t going to vanish like a dream in the morning.

“I love you,” he panted while he penetrated her. “I’ve missed you so much… so much…”

Meg wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled for him to go even deeper. It was strange for both of them, to have him on top, but they were too caught up in the moment to consider switching. Castiel could feel her nails digging in his back, her breath grazing his skin, her heart beating as fast as his, and wondered how he could have gone months without this, without her. How he could go the rest of his life if they agreed this had been a bad idea afterwards.

Something of that line of thinking must have been reflected on his face, because Meg put her arms around his neck and planted a rather aggressive kiss in his mouth.

“Castiel…” she said, and again, all his thoughts jumped out the window, leaving him with her, only her, warm and passionate and insistent.

He started rocking his hips, slowly at first, but gaining speed as she encouraged him with her moans and short orders whispered against his ear. He was under her spell again, following every instruction, pausing when she told him to, starting again when she commanded it. It had always been like this. It would always be like this.

That was fine. He wouldn’t have it any other way.

He sat up, lifting her with him so she would be on his lap, so he could look up at her face and try to express all of the things he wanted to say, all of those things for which those three damn little words just weren’t enough. Meg smiled down at him, her chestnut brown eyes shining, and she pushed herself against his erection, teasingly at first, and then faster and faster as their climax came closer.

Castiel wasn’t prepared for it. He wasn’t ready for the violent shiver of pleasure that shook his body, or for the overwhelming sensation of his own blood pulsating in his ears, or for the sudden way his lungs ran out of air. He wasn’t ready for his eyes overflowing with tears, or the faltering beating of his heart, or the things his tongue said on its own volition, pretty sure none of it made any sense. But Meg understood. She always did.

“Hush, hush, now, that’s okay,” she said, caressing his damp hair tenderly. “I’m here. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

 

* * *

 

 

When Castiel opened his eyes, it was already dark outside. He should be leaving, but he didn’t dare to move, not when Meg’s head was nestled against his neck; not when, for the first time in months, he was comfortable and peaceful.

Meg seemed to sense the change on his breathing, because she opened her eyes too.

“Hey,” she said.

“Hey,” Castiel said. He supposed he should be fearing this moment; the moment when their bubble of post-coital bliss finally popped, but he was way too relaxed and satisfied to actually feel anything but a resigned calmness.

“I missed you,” Meg said, cuddling even closer to him. “I missed this. Why did we stop doing it?”

“I don’t know,” he answered. “You’re the one who left.”

“You’re the one who never called me again,” she shot back, apparently not aggravated at all by his remark.

“I had reasons not to,” Castiel said.

“Such as?”

He hesitated for a moment, but then he decided there was really nothing left to lose. He confessed he went to the theater the day of the callback, the things Ruby had said, and (he felt a bit embarrassed when he admitted it) how he ran away after hearing them. Meg looked slightly irritated.

“And you believed her?” she said, frowning. “Cas, I swear, I thought you knew me better…”

Castiel opened his mouth to reply something along the lines of “Well, what was I supposed to think?” but Meg shut him up with a kiss.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m sorry, let’s not… let’s not do that. Let’s not fight. There’s just… a lot more to it.”

“Like what?” Castiel asked. Meg remained silence. “Meg, please tell me,” he begged her. “I want to understand, please…”

“Azazael knew my real name,” she said. Castiel stared at her in stunned silence, and waited for her to continue. After a moment, she sighed. “Megan Masters’ not my birth name. In fact, ‘Masters’ was my mom’s maiden name. I adopted it some years ago; right after Luc went to jail. It wasn’t hard to decide. I never knew my dad, and Luc… well, let’s say he started his career as a criminal scumbag rather early. Whenever he was home, it was either to escape the cops or to steal money from my mom’s purse.”

She took a deep breath, and for a moment, it seemed like she was going to break again, but she didn’t.

“My mom was always fragile. A heart condition I can’t even pronounce,” she continued. “Still, she managed to work two jobs and make enough money for us both to live just fine. There was this little cinema next to our home; they always projected old classic movies on weekends. We went there like some families go to church. My mom was a walking encyclopedia of movie knowledge. The place was almost always empty most of the time, so we would sit in the front row and she would talk nonstop about what we were watching… I don’t know what this has to do with anything. I just… I still miss her sometimes.”

Castiel nodded and kissed her forehead. It was the most affectionate gesture he dared to make.

“Anyway, eventually they caught Luc,” Meg told him. “And he went to trail, and it was… it was awful. We never knew about all the things he had done. But that wasn’t the worst part. It was the fucking reporters camped outside our building, calling at all times to get a statement from us, stalking us when we went to take out the garbage. They wrote a very hurtful article about ‘how a criminal mind is made’. My mom’s health started to deteriorate, and eventually she collapsed. She died in the hospital, while we were watching the  _Casablanca_ DVD I brought her. She always had a huge crush on Humphrey Bogart.”

She gave a half-hearted giggle, and Castiel hugged her even tighter. He had lost both his parents, and it had been terrible, but he’d had his siblings to give him support. Meg’d had to go through it all of it alone.

“So after that, I ran away,” she said. “I followed Ozzy Osbourne’s tour through the states, and that’s how I met Dean and Benny. Dean’s never been close to his half-brother, Adam, and he said something that stuck with me. He said: ‘Family doesn’t end with blood, but blood doesn’t make family either.’”

Castiel wanted to laugh. Meg had imitated Dean’s tone perfectly, right down to the not completely faded Kansas accent.

“I decided he was right, I never considered Luc part of my family,” she said. “So I came to the City, changed my name, put myself through college. You know the rest.”

Castiel kept waiting. He was starting to comprehend a lot about Meg, and he fell in love with her a little more, if that was possible. But he still didn’t quite get what any of that had to do with Azazael.

“That night I ran crying to your apartment, I lied to you,” she confessed. “Bela hadn’t called me. Luc had. He is presenting yet another appeal. He does that every now and then, like the fact he was sentenced to three hundred years isn’t enough clue that nobody wants him back on the streets. He’s kind enough to warn me so I know why the press is stalking me again, though.”

Her voice was dripping sarcasm and Castiel had the strangely violent impulse to strangle this Luc character with his own hands.

“But they were never able to find me again after I was renamed,” Meg said. “I don’t know how Azazael made the connection. But he knew about Luc. He knew how notorious his case was. And he said, unless I slept with him, he would leak my whereabouts to the press. He urged me to think about the consequences that would have for you, for Claire… and it was the worst thing he could have done, because that’s when I decided I’d rather go through all that shit again before I let him lay a hand on me.”

“Oh, Meg…” Castiel said. “So, that’s why you broke up with me? So I wouldn’t be hurt if Azazael kept his word?”

“Exactly,” she said. “It was my way of pushing you out of the line of fire. As stupid as it sounds.”

“It’s not stupid at all,” he said.

He was slightly angry she hadn’t confided all of this on him earlier, and relieved to know she hadn’t slept with that bastard. But most of all, he was happy. Happy they were clearing things up. Happy to know he hadn’t done anything wrong. Happy to find out Meg loved him as much as he loved her.

“Anyway,” she continued. “I called Bela, because she is the only person I know who knows how to deal with this stuff. She advised me to get me a lawyer, so I called Sam, because he’s the only lawyer I know, and he threatened to sue Azazael for so much money his grandchildren would still be paying mine. It was brilliant. I asked him not to tell anything to Dean, or to you. Azazael was incredibly mad, and he stepped down from the production of  _I’m no angel._ So Bela took his place. I don’t know why she was so kind to me. She didn’t even ask for anything in return.”

“She has a soft spot for you,” Castiel muttered, and shook his head. “But, when all of it was over, why didn’t you call me? Why didn’t you tell me the truth?”

“I thought you were still mad at me,” she said. “I thought you didn’t want anything to do with me anymore. I couldn’t blame you.”

“Why would you think that?”

“I told you. You never called.”

Castiel closed his eyes, and forced himself to face his own cowardice. If he had stuck around at the theater, if he had tried to reach out for Meg even once, if he hadn’t let his jealousy and his fear blinded him, if he had  _wanted_ to know, he would had spared them both months of suffering.

“I’m an idiot,” he concluded.

“A little bit,” Meg agreed. “But, granted, it wasn’t my most brilliant moment either.”

There were a million other things they needed to talk about. Like what was going to happen now. Like whether they were going to get back together, and what would it take to make it work. But then their lips met again, and all of it was deemed irrelevant.

 

* * *

 

 

Castiel woke up agitated, in a bed that wasn’t his, in an unfamiliar bedroom. It took several seconds for him to remember where he was, what had happened. The outline of Meg’s back lying next to him was what finally tranquilized him.

He searched for his cell phone to check the hour, but it probably was wherever his trousers had ended up. Meg stirred next to him.

“What is it?” she asked in a husky whisper.

“It’s late,” he said, in the same tone. “I should be going.”

“No,” she protested, and grabbed his arm weakly. “Stay. Come on. Please…”

Meg never asked for anything. Meg had a very strict policy about asking for things. Castiel knew it; he knew that when she asked for something was because she really needed it or wanted it.

“Alright.” He gave up the search for his phone, and slid back between the warmth of the sheets. “Alright. I’m staying.”

Meg smiled, and gave him a soft peck on the cheek, before closing her eyes and falling back asleep.

 

* * *

 

 

Castiel gave himself one last look in the mirror, and grimaced. It was bad enough that he was going to show up to work with the same clothes from the previous day, but when Charlie and Pamela noticed he was also unshaven (and they would notice, for sure), he’d never hear the end of it.

Ha had planned on waking up early and going to his apartment for a quick shower and a change, but he had underestimated the lure of Meg’s naked body next to him. They had made love lazily, and then she suggested he’d take the day off, but he was pretty sure than doing that the day after being promoted was not the best way of getting into Bela’s good side. He wasn’t going to abuse her “soft spot” for Meg either.

He walked into the kitchen to find Meg, wearing her old blue robe (and he, presumed, nothing else), busying herself with the coffee maker.

“Hey,” she said. “Do you have time for breakfast?”

Castiel was actually running a little late, but he wouldn’t say no to caffeine and toasts. And besides, there were still a couple of things they needed to discuss, and he was pretty sure they wouldn’t be able to do it anywhere near a bed.

They sat on the kitchen island, and sipped from their cups in silence for a couple of minutes. Then, he cleared his throat.

“So…” he began.

“So,” Meg grinned at him. “Last night was great. Would you like to repeat?”

He had forgotten exactly how direct she could be. He tried to find something to say, but all the things that had been running through his mind earlier were definitely gone.

“How about we go back to our original deal?” she was saying. “Every Friday evening and maybe a weekend now and then…?”

“No,” he said, and the forcefulness of it startled them both.

“No?” Meg repeated, visibly hurt. Castiel rubbed his eyes for a moment, and then turned to look at her again.

“I don’t want to go back to our ‘original deal’, Meg,” he said. “To be honest, I hated the original deal. I mean, not at first, at first it was new and exciting to have a friend with benefits, but then… then I fell in love with you. I was probably in love with you long before I realized it. I-I don’t know, I have never… do you think there’s such thing as love at first sight?”

“Cas, you’re babbling,” she pointed.

“Right,” he said, stopping to catch his breath. “Right. Sorry. I just… I love you.”

“And you’re saying things are different because of that?” Meg said. Castiel didn’t think it was necessary to answer to that. After a pause, Meg nodded, comprehensively. “Okay,” she said. “I love you, you love me. Glad we got that out of the way. So what would you have us do?”

“I don’t know,” Castiel sighed. “I was elated with what we had right before all the mess with Azazael. And maybe you were right, and our timing was off, but… I don’t want to take things slow, Meg. If we’re going to be together, I want us to actually  _be_ together. I want to brag about you, and hold your hand and kiss you, and tell you that I love you without fear of losing you… and get mad at you, and fight with you, and not take three months to gather the nerve to apologize… because even when we hurt each other, I think it’s worth it…”

He trailed off, and stopped to take a breath, and looked at Meg, who seemed to be lost deep in thought.

“I can’t give you any guarantees, Cas,” she said. “I don’t know if I can do that.”

Now it was Castiel’s turn to look hurt, but she grabbed his hand and made him look at her.

“But I want to… to try,” she said. “With you.”

“Don’t do it just because I want to,” Castiel said.

“I’m not,” Meg answered. “I want to see if I can… share my life with someone as wholeheartedly as you put it.”

For a moment, Castiel didn’t realize those were almost the exact same words he’d said when he first agreed to submit to her. When he did, he couldn’t hold back a chuckle. Meg winked at smile at him.

“So, Mr. Hopeless Romantic,” she said. “Do you think we have a chance?”

“I have no doubt in mind,” he said.

And maybe that was guarantee enough. 


	36. Epilogue.

The light that crept in through the window was grey and weak, barely lightening the room. A small figure was standing next to the bed, hesitating. Finally, she moved her hand forward and touched the shoulder of one of the sleepers.

“Meg,” she called, in a whisper. “Meg… wake up.”

Meg opened her eyes with a sigh. She had been awake from the moment Claire tiptoed into the room; she was just hoping the kid would go back to bed. What time was it anyway?

“What is it, sweetie?” she asked in the same low tone, trying not to wake Castiel. “You had a nightmare?”

“No,” Claire said. “It’s Christmas!”

“Oh, yes, Christmas,” Meg remembered, and closed her eyes again. “Joy…”

“Don’t go back to sleep!” Claire said. “Don’t you wanna see what Santa brought?”

“I’m pretty sure he brought wonderful things,” Meg said, still refusing to leave the bed. “And I’m pretty sure they’ll still be there in an hour or two…”

“Don’t pay attention to Meg, princess,” Castiel said. Oh, great, now he was awake too. “You know she’s always cranky until she’s had her first coffee.”

“I am not cranky!” Meg protested, turning to see her boyfriend, who had a beatific beam on his face. Honestly, how did he manage to be in such a good mood in the mornings? Right now, he was chuckling at her crankiness… which was perfectly normal if you’d been awoken at the crack of dawn, no matter the day!

“You stay in bed. I’m going to make breakfast,” he decided, getting up. “And then we’ll open Santa’s gifts together, okay?”

“Okay,” Claire said, and she climbed onto the bed. “Can I tell you something, Meg?”

Meg sighed again, forgetting about her half hour of snoozing. “What, sweetie?”

“I know it’s really Daddy who buys the presents,” she said. She was as serious as she was revealing a state secret.

“Then why do you keep talking about Santa?” Meg asked, frowning.

“I don’t know. It just seems to make him happy, you know?” The kid shrugged, and sank further into the sheets. “I like to see him happy. Don’t you?”

“Why, of course I do,” Meg said. She couldn’t believe she was having such a serious conversation with a seven-year-old. “You know I love your dad very much, right?”

“But if you love him so much, why don’t you want to come live with him?”

Meg sat on the bed, and took a good hard look at Claire. “Okay, who put you up to this?” she asked, narrowing her eyes. “Was it Anna and Dean? Or was it Gabriel?”

The kid opened her eyes in the most innocent expression, but was betrayed but the little grin she couldn’t hold back. “I don’t know what you mean,” she said.

“Oh, so you won’t talk, huh?” Meg asked. “That’s okay. I’ve got ways to make you spill the beans!”

When Castiel walked back into the room, he found Claire rolling onto the bed, laughing uncontrollably, while Meg tickled her systematically while demanding her to confess.

“Come on, you little spy!” she said, while Claire screamed and tried to escape her grip. “I know you’re not working alone!”

“I’ll… never… tell you,” Claire answered, breathless from the laughter.

“Well, glad to see you two are having a Merry Christmas,” Castiel said, smiling. Claire ran up to him at the speed of light and hugged his legs.

“You can’t hide behind your dad forever!” Meg said, pointing an accusing finger at her. Claire stuck out her tongue in her direction, and Castiel couldn’t help but to cackle when Meg did the same thing.

“Alright, girls, that’s quite enough!” he scolded them, mockingly. “Breakfast’s getting cold, and of course, the presents are waiting.”

“Yay!” Claire exclaimed and left the room.

“What was that all about?” Castiel asked Meg.

“Someone’s making bets on us again,” she informed him, getting up. “You’d think they learned their lesson when I correctly predicted Alfie and Garth would get engaged before Halloween.”

“Oh, yes. I still can’t believe Balthazar actually paid you the two hundred dollars right there,” Castiel said, distractedly placing an arm around her waist. “Merry Christmas, by the way.”

“Bah, humbug!” Meg repeated, kissing him in the edge of the lips.

Since they had started the day so early, they had plenty of time to have breakfast and watch Claire unwrap her gifts, before getting dressed and ready for the dinner at Raphael’s house. Balthazar called them to inform them Khali’s flight was late, so they wouldn’t have to pick them up after all.

“I bet Gabriel’s nervous,” Meg commented, while Castiel wrapped the dessert he had prepared on tinfoil paper. “It’s the first time he sees her in, what…? Ten years?”

“Eleven. But he never gets nervous,” Castiel said.

“I’d be nervous,” she said. Castiel raised her eyes at her.

“Are you?” he asked. “Nervous?”

“Why, should I be?” Meg asked. “It’s just… Christmas dinner, right?”

“Right,” Castiel said, not wanting to let her know Christmas dinner at the Abbots was the grind their relationships had to go through in order to survive. But since Meg had gotten the approval of most of his siblings, he expected Raphael and Michael to be cool with it.

“At least they’ll be happy we’re not living in sin, won’t they?” Meg joked.

“Sure,” Castiel said, and then added under his breath. “Not yet, anyway.”

Meg glared at him. “We’re not having this conversation again.”

“I’m just saying, is the next logical step!” Castiel said, putting on an innocent expression not unlike his daughter.

“Oh, so it’s illogical that I want to have my own space?” Meg asked, crossing her arms.

It was actually kind of flattering that Castiel wanted her around in such a definitive way, but she would never admit it. Since  _I’m no angel_ was doing much better now that Mervin had caved in and changed the ending so Tira and Jack ended up together, she had enough money to renew her lease, even though she spent like, what? Two days a week in her apartment? Still, she wasn’t moving in with Castiel without putting up a fight. At this point, it was more of a matter of principles.

“Alright,” Castiel sighed. “Alright, forget I said anything.”

“Oh, come here,” Meg wrapped her arms around his waist and hugged him tight. “Does it really mean that much to you?”

“I am aware we’ve only known each other a year,” Castiel said. “But yes, it would mean a lot.”

“Okay, then.”

Meg let go of him, and kept putting the presents for Castiel’s family in the bag. He stared at her, incredulous.

“Okay? That’s it?” he asked, confused. “You’re moving in?”

“Only because I don’t want to see you brooding on Christmas,” Meg said. “What is it about the time a year that gets you so bad, Clarence?”

Castiel couldn’t hold back the chuckle. “George.”

“What?” Meg asked, confused.

“That night at the Den, you meant to call me George. He was the one who was brooding on Christmas,” Castiel explained. “And Clarence was the angel trying to earn his wings.”

“No, I’m pretty sure George was the angel… wasn’t he?” Meg asked. Castiel shook his head slightly. “What? I got it wrong? And you waited a year to tell me?!”

“I only understood that reference the other day,” he said, shrugging apologetically. Meg punched him in the arm.

“I am  _so_ punishing you for this later,” she said.

“But I am still Clarence, right?” Castiel asked.

“Of course,” Meg answered, grabbing his shirt to pull him for a kiss. “It suits you.”

There was a little cough on the living room, and they both turned to look at Claire, standing there while she buttoned up her coat.

“We’re going to be late!” she warned them.

There was a flutter of activity while Meg and Castiel made sure they weren’t forgetting anything, and then the three of them ran to the car. While they were loading the trunk, Meg pretended not to hear Claire asking in a confidential whisper:

“Did it work, Daddy?”

“It did, princess,” Castiel answered in the same tone. Meg could practically guess the smile in his voice.

And, for some reason, she caught herself smiling as well.


End file.
